Yesterday's Roses
by Catheryne
Summary: Chuck/Blair. Historical Romance AU. In the tailend of the Wars of the Roses, the secret princess was his only hope for revenge--and for love.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This story uses actual events in history. I will be borrowing actual titles and places and giving them to the GG characters. Like my other historical GG fic, I will endeavor to keep to character as best as I can while I morph them into how they will be in the time and the situation that I place them in. Most other characters you see are real people from history.

This is set right after the last decisive battle of the Wars of the Roses, the series of skirmishes and battles in England of the two rival Plantagenet royal houses—York and Lancaster—as they fought for the throne.

**Yesterday's Roses**

Part 1

On the twenty second day of August in the year of our Lord fourteen hundred and eighty five, all of England mourned the death of thousands of brave fighters, noblemen and commoners, from both royal houses of the grand Plantagenet line. All of a sudden, in one fell battle on the otherwise peaceful field near Bosworth market, fifteen thousand men clashed from either side of the Channel.

One King charged with his army like a maniac, deprived of reason after losses so great he could barely think, down Albion hill onto the waiting line of the man who would afterwards be branded as the usurper. Amidst the battle, his own noblemen turned their backs, or watched in passive inaction, as his army was cut down by the Henry, Earl of Richmond, of the House of Tudor.

The King had screamed, when he first realized that his loyal subjects had abandoned him, "Treason!"

And it was betrayal of the highest measure. On the twenty second day of August in the year of our Lord fourteen hundred and eighty five, the Yorkist king fell, his body bared and trussed upon a horse and taken through the town of Leicester in a manner worse than that of a common criminal, paraded like meat down the market streets to be deposited in a humble church of the Greyfriar's.

The news reached Lord Charles as if a nightmare reaching for him underneath his blankets as a child. He had arrived in England from serving his King as an envoy to Italy, only to find that the battles that he had before thought were over had erupted into massive warfare in the far fields.

"And what of my father?" he asked quietly of the knight who stood in front of him, his head bowed low.

The knight fell to his knees as he bowed deeper. "My lord," Sir Daniel choked. "Your grace."

Chuck Bass straightened at the salutation, because it meant only one thing to him. His father, the first Duke of Norfolk, who gained his title and his fortune from Richard III as reward for loyalty in battle, had perished in the last battle, and thus the title had been bestowed on Chuck. "Sir Daniel, where is he?"

"One of his men has come injured, your grace." Chuck flinched at the name. "He brought news of the outcome."

"And the rest of the men?"

"Most perished in battle," Sir Daniel replied. "Dead on the field."

Chuck's expression darkened. He looked out the window into the night. "Gather my personal guard," Chuck instructed. "We will retrieve the bodies of our slain friends. They will not rot above ground unshriven and without honor."

And it was then that the trusted knight told the new duke of the fate of the Yorkist king. Chuck bared his teeth in disgust at the fate that the two-year king had suffered under the hands of the usurper. "Who led the charge? There is no Lancastrian prince strong enough to wipe out the Yorkist army."

"The Lancastrians have placed their faith on another."

Chuck bared his teeth. His childhood friend was the last Lancastrian who could claim the throne for his house, and Nathaniel Archibald had not once expressed a desire to rule the divided country. "Who?"

"The Lancastrian earls have called upon the Earl of Richmond, Henry Tudor, your grace."

Chuck glared at Sir Daniel. "And what flimsy claim does he have to the throne?"

"Twofold, lord. From his mother Margaret Beaufort."

"Beaufort," Chuck muttered. "Descended from two of Edward's sons."

Chuck nodded curtly. There was more from his house with a direct line to the throne than the Tudor bastard, who treated his king with such disrespect that Chuck shuddered at the thought of Richard in such disgrace. "My men, Sir Daniel. And quickly. We shall retrieve the bodies and give them a proper burial."

In the dead of the night, Chuck and his small troop performed the most wrenching of tasks that men had to do. They gathered their dead, those with standards of white banners and patches, selecting those from the Norfolk household if they could, and if not, picking the bodies of any Yorkist soldier who had died in the fray. Careful not to call the attention of the Tudor soldiers, and French mercenaries that Tudor had hired to fight his battle, his small troop took with them as many of the bodies that they could salvage.

Chuck happened upon the corpse of his father half-covered by the Norfolk banner. The new duke fell to his knees, his light mail and armor clattering on the ground. Chuck reached over and shut Bartholomew's sightless eyes, then swallowed. First, he unclasped what he could of the heavy armor that his father bore, that was not enough to protect him from the arrow that pierces his side. Chuck leaned over and with a grunt, carried his father's body in his arms and stumbled towards the large cart.

"I swear, father," he vowed as he looked at the old duke lying atop the bodies of his fallen men, "I will take down the usurper by any means necessary." And then, Chuck reached for his father's hand and took off the thick leather glove that the older man wore. He bared the ring that had the duke of Norfolk's seal. He met Sir Daniel's eyes over the bodies. The knight gave him a single nod. Chuck took a breath, then glanced at his father's bloodied face. He slid off the ring that Bartholomew had worn since being create duke. Chuck placed it on his finger.

"My lord duke," Sir Daniel addressed him, "shall we bury our dead?"

Chuck nodded. "We shall go to St Mary's abbey, two hours down this path. They will be blessed, and their rites read." He turned to his tired men, whose countenance was dark at the task they had undertaken. "Brighten up, men. Your brothers fell in an honorable battle for the kingdom. And what we have done today, risk our lives to retrieve our dead. It will be done for any one of us who fall. Dead or alive," Chuck told them, his voice firm, "no one from our house is left behind for the vultures or the enemy—English or French, Lancastrian or Tudor. We will take you home."

At Chuck's promise, the men straightened and nodded, relieved at the firm belief that their duke will always look after them.

Two days later, Blair Waldorf, fully veiled in black lace, her face and arms hidden from the world, stood at the ramp of the ship that had taken her from the safe haven of her French home, to the savage lands of England. She looked down at the lands in disgust, then looked down her nose at the full escort of twelve men who awaited her astride their horses. "Welcome to England, Lady Blair," called out one of the knights, with a slight bow of his head.

She turned to her uncle, who met her on the ramp. "Is this how Englishmen show courtesy?" she asked in her haughty voice.

Lord Jasper quickly turned to the men, and commanded them to get off their beasts. Blair nodded in satisfaction. "There is a mare for you. The king has sent the most beautiful beast in the royal stables." His voice dropped. "Only the best and purest bred white beast for a princess."

Blair walked down with her hand on her uncle's arm. It was not rare that she be referenced as a princess, but it had never been true until recently, when the pet name became a real appointment. It had been a gift, that title. Her half-brother had done so quietly, because even her existence was as closely guarded a secret to the Lancastrian family as any other. To the house, the Red Rose of Lancaster was a symbol of honor and family tradition. Only to the closest circle surrounding the newly crowned Henry VII was it known that there existed Blair Waldorf, Edmund Tudor's love child with his mistress Eleanor Waldorf and her half-brother's pride and joy. Even without the blood ties to the Lancastrian house that Henry was connected to through his mother Margaret Beaufort, she had been, at the tender age of twelve, been the epitome of the symbolic flower. Raised in secret, denied in public, whispered about in private, Lady Blair had the whole of her small world revolve around her from early on. She noticed the moist ground. "Jenny," she said softly, calling to her lady.

The young woman passed the cage housing Blair's cat Cat to the maid. She scurried towards Blair, and picked up the hem of the lady's gown, keeping it dry. When they stopped in front of the mare, Jenny gasped. "Lord Jasper, my lady only uses a sidesaddle."

The older man appeared surprised, as if he had not before thought of the possibility. He smacked his forehead and apologized, "Princess, I had not considered it. Forgive me. I am too much in the company of men."

She twisted her lips in displeasure, the expression hidden under the dark veil. She abhorred the thing, which prevented her from showing and seeing as much as she would like. But it was at the king's existence that she be so covered, to hide her identity from his enemies. Blair found it illogical given the secrecy surrounding her birth, but if there was one thing that brooked no argument to Henry Tudor, it was the matter of his sister's safety.

Before she spoke, Jenny already appeared beside her hefting a heavy bejeweled sidesaddle. Jasper motioned to one of the men to take the item from the young woman, and place it on the mare.

Finally satisfied, Blair allowed one of the men to cup his hands together so that she could place a foot on the footrest he created with his hands. She placed her hand tentatively on the man's shoulder and then allowed him to boost her upon the saddle. She sat atop the horse and looked up, through her veil, at the proud standard whipping in the wind. It was the red rose of Lancaster.

A week to the day that Chuck Bass buried forty of the finest soldiers loyal to Norfolk and the Yorkist line, the young duke set up camp in a sympathizer barony half way between his holding and London, his sole purpose, to gather the noblemen still loyal to the house of York. When they all met, their families disgraced, titles and fortunes stripped in one fell action by the king that they would not recognize, Chuck set his jaw. The Yorkist leaders represented now were young men, around his age. Gone was the assembly of the distinguished York nobles. Some, like his own father, fell in battle and some sent to exile or prison for the Tudor-defined 'treason.'

"This is how we stand now," he pronounced as the men surrounded him. "Fresh faces unprepared for another battle."

"Untrained in combat," added a young lord, whose father, one of Richard's standardbearers, had been sent to Spanish exile.

Chuck smirked. "Speak for yourself. Most of us here have trained on our father's side."

"Such grand claim to train by the side of one who fell in combat."

His face hardened at the insult. "Careful, Norton," Chuck warned. "Too much Yorkist blood has nourished our lands most recently. You do not want to be the next to fall."

"What is it you propose, Bass? We are fallen," stated the Salisbury earl.

Chuck turned to his cousin. "Look around you, Ned. There's Audley, and Clifford," Chuck said, nodding at the man who stood at the back. "Pembroke," Chuck called to the young Herbert. "Mowbray and Neville. Our fathers are gone, my friends, but we are all here."

"To do what?" Ned challenged.

"Assassinate the usurper," offered Herbert.

"Tudor will have the eyes of a hawk on us all. He thinks we cannot fight. We cannot come near him, even if we thought to," Ned spat.

"Allow me to sleep on it," Chuck told them.

"Of course," John Neville replied. He turned to his companions. "You know Bass, my lords. He will come upon a scheme so brilliant you will be ashamed to have doubted him."

Chuck smirked, then nodded once at John. "Shall we meet in the morning right here?"

When all agreed, Chuck retired to his chambers. He encountered his younger brother Eric outside his door. "Sir Eric," he greeted the newly knighted young man.

"Your grace," Eric returned, surprised. "Your men have a gift for you, waiting inside."

Chuck narrowed his eyes. His men, friendly and tight as the troop was, were not the type who gave presents or offerings. "A gift," he repeated.

"Aye, lord. Your men are very grateful and will forever be loyal to you, when you decided to take our dead from the battlefield."

He entered his room expecting to see a fine new sword. His men, for whatever reason, perhaps remembered the day of his birth, which Chuck had not celebrated since he turned seven and lost his mother. In fact, he doubted anyone still remembered the day of his birth. Sometimes even he forgot it, and remembered only months later that sometime during the past year, he had turned another year older.

His gaze flew to the rolled up blanket at his feet. Warily, he looked back towards the door. It was a large package, if this were it. And then he remembered the magnificent Persian carpets that he had once seen in Richard III's keep. There was no possible way that his men could purchase material as fine. He bent to roll the rolled up blanket, then blinked.

Did it move?

Chuck dropped to his knees and heard the unmistakable sound that came from the tightly bound blanket. Was that a groan? His hand flew to the dagger slid at the back of his belt, and drew it up to cut the ties loose. His hands peeled the blanket away and revealed a sight he would never forget.

"Good God!"

It was a person, wrapped in black veil from her head to her waist. He pulled away the covering, then took in the image before him. On the floor, she lay sleeping. The mess of dark curly hair spilled over the woman's face. His eyes ran down her body. She wore nothing but a white shift. Her white feet were bare. He took her up in his arms and laid her on the narrow bed.

Tentatively, his hand reached out to touch her, telling himself he needed to see any marking on her body, to memorize the features of her face. If anyone had lost a daughter or a wife, one would describe the missing with characteristics he would not recognize if he did not look.

And look he did. Chuck swallowed at the teasing hint of full breasts underneath the lacy shift. Despite having been stripped of most possessions, the material of the shift told him all he needed to know of the station of his unwitting visitor. The shift ended halfway down her thighs, revealing creamy, shapely legs. Chuck reached out to part her hair.

Generous, pouty, red lips enthralled him. Thick dark lashes created moon shadows over her cheeks. Her eyes would be dark, he wagered.

The young woman on the bed groaned, and her eyes fluttered open. Chuck held his breath, waiting to see if he won the bet. Before he could drown in the color of her eyes, she sucked in a breath and screamed, rolled out of the bed and stumbled to the other side so that the pitiful furniture would stand between them. And then she clutched at her head in pain.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

Chuck stepped back in surprise. "Who are you?" he returned.

"I demand you return me to my party. I was abducted!" she claimed. "And I will have the criminal beheaded. Return me, cur!"

Chuck Bass grinned at the sheer arrogance that now radiated off the little girl. "I did not abduct you."

She stood there in anger, without realizing, he thought, her state of undress. He sat down on the bed to rested his back against the wall. He faced her and counted in his head. "Did I claim you did? I remember his face. A nasty little blonde boy dragged me away from my brother's men. He will die," Blair warned.

"Are you so mighty and powerful, lady?" Chuck drawled. And then he recognized the shimmer in her eyes had nothing to do with anger now. They were tears. She was afraid.

She thrust up her chin. "Take me to my brother, and you will be rewarded."

"You offer me fortune?" She nodded. "We all have need of fortune in this house," he said, remembering the other families represented in the mock assembly he had called.

"We can pay you all you require. Just take me back unharmed," she offered, her voice intriguingly certain. "We have recently come upon a fortune, an unexpected inheritance."

A bloody Lancastrian, Chuck thought. Perhaps from one of the houses that fell out of favor until the usurper arrived. "Maybe not," Chuck muttered. "I do not want your money. It's tainted with blood."

She gasped. "If you do not return me, you will suffer wrath like you have never seen," Blair cried out. Chuck shook his head, then turned around. He divested himself of his tunic, then started untying the belt of his trousers. The young woman ran towards him and pleaded, "My lord, take me home. I swear I shall make it worth your while."

"Is it true?" he said in humor, his lips curving. "You are a beautiful woman."

She pulled away. "Are you to take me against my will?"

Chuck smirked at her. "I like my women willing, preferably those who know what to do."

"Then take me home. You will be richly rewarded by the king."

"The king is dead," Chuck replied coldly.

"The new king, the king who will bring this wretched torn land some peace. Harry!"

Chuck regarded the girl in front of him with suspicious eyes. "Why would Henry Tudor pay handsomely for your return?" His eyes raked from the girl's head to her toes. The first time he had been attracted like this again, and it was to the usurper's castoff. "Are you his mistress?"

She made a face of disgust. "No!" she exclaimed. "How vile!" She shuddered.

Yet she had been so certain of Henry's devotion that he would pay ransom or reward for no matter what amount. Only one relation to a man could feel so secure. Serena was the same about him. "Princess?" he said softly.

Her eyes widened. "You know about me?" And Chuck suspected very few people within Lancaster's own circle was privy to an illegitimate daughter in the Tudor house. He tested his theory, and nodded. "Then you must be trusted," she deduced. "Oh!" She threw her arms around his neck. "I am glad to have found a friend in this wretched land."

Chuck returned the warm embrace, relishing the feel of the young supple body pressing against his, then leaned his lips close to the shell of her ear. "What is your name?"

"Blair," she answered.

And the plan had formed—a crisp, crystal, clear plan. "Princess Blair," he began, and he knew he would enjoy every moment of this exquisite torture, "do you know where you are?" The men had argued that there was no possible way to kill Henry, to even reach him. The answer was waiting in his bedroom all along. This was how Henry Tudor paid for his crime against York.

She shook her head. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold on her and kept her in his embrace. "You are right at the center of a Yorkist fortress." He felt her freeze in his arms. "In a chamber reserved for me, Chuck Bass, duke of Norfolk, son of a man who perished in the skirmish near Bosworth." Skirmish was too small a word, but he did not want to drag her kicking and screaming towards the fresh graves of his men. "Princess," he said like it were an insult, "you are in enemy territory."

Blair's eyes shut tightly. He could see her searching her brain. But he knew exactly what surrounded her, and had no doubt that even if she were just a woman, she would recognize her fate. "Please—"

Chuck released her from his arms, then shook his head at her. "You are coming back with me to my castle," he told her. "You are no longer in France, princess," he told her, assuming that, if she were Henry's half-sister, then she would have grown up in Calais where the Tudors had sought refuge during the Yorkist period. "You are not in Henry's England."

She sniffled.

"You are in _my_ England, Blair. Here, you are nothing but a commoner. Here, you have no money, no title, no lands," he enumerated. "You are lower than a peasant, because peasants have pledged fealty to me."

She turned her head away.

"Will you pledge yourself loyal to me? Perhaps I can allow you some luxuries." When he noted her pause, he chuckled. "I will not accept it. Your words have no meaning here, your vow useless. No one will believe a word coming from your mouth."

Blair spat at his feet. "I swear to you, Yorkist dog, that before Henry is done with you, you will pray for death!"

Chuck looked down at the bastard princess, and marveled how quickly regard changed. She had seemed to him an innocent angel, a victim of circumstance, when he had freed her from her cloth prison. And now here she was, afraid and angry at the same time, glaring up at her like the spoiled little princess she was, who understood nothing of consequence.

He could think of no other way to humiliate her. He clasped her nape with one hand, then firmly turned her to face him. He ravaged her mouth while she pushed against his chest in shock and fury. When he released her, her lips were red and sore, and she gasped for breath. "Think of that when you next insult me," he advised her. He laid his palm against her belly, and she sucked in her breath at the sensation of wild butterflies aching to escape.

"Sleep. You will wake tomorrow at crack of dawn and take me my breakfast," he instructed. "You are now my personal servant."

"Your slave?"

"Do not be overly dramatic."

"What is it you want? Money? Your lands? I swear you will have all of it back, if you will only free me."

He shook his head. He was one of the few who escaped with most of his possessions intact. "I want vengeance, princess. You are my only hope for it."

Tbc

Test chapter. Let me know if this is interesting to you so I can decide to pick it up. : - )


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you, guys. You basically told me through your reviews to go ahead with the story, so that's what I'm doing. I committed to a new part within 24 hours, but given how ffnet has been down for me in unpredictable times, I will upload this with hours to spare.

To address those who have studied Shakespeare and English history in school, and those who asked me to give more background, I would like to emphasize that the characterizations of Henry, Richard and description of the war that I use here is from several sources. History is written by the victor, thus at first glance I understand that people would think that Richard was a cruel king (why is Chuck so loyal to him?) and Henry was the big hero. First off, based on all research, Richard was not a black and white cruel man (no one can prove he killed his nephews) and Henry was not black and white good (he did everything he could to take out the Yorkists who could possibly have a better claim to the throne; was pitiless in his efforts to raise funds to mobilize his troops).

In this fic, Chuck had his reasons to remain loyal to Richard III, and Blair had her reasons to have full faith in Henry VII.

If there's anything else about the background that's unclear, let me know. I will be happy to expound here or by PM.

Part 2

Nathaniel Archibald had not suited for battle in all the years he had been alive. He abhorred battle, and despised bloodshed. It had been the reason that he never staked a claim to the disputed throne. Now he was called to Henry's court, and Nathaniel was certain that he would leave the presence of his King with a commitment to battle on Henry's behalf.

"Your grace," he said, as he bowed to Henry.

"Lord Archibald. Cousin!" was the warm yet quiet greeting that came from the king, who immediately pulled Nathaniel to his feet and embraced the younger man. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course. Anything for the King of England."

Henry nodded, pleased with Nathaniel's immediate sign of fealty. This was one man he would not be worried about, despite his strong ties to the throne. "I have need of you," Henry said. He had taken the mantle of the king so well that his voice left no room for Nathaniel to decline.

"How can I humbly serve you, my lord?"

"This conversation will not leave this room," Henry said first. Nathaniel nodded. Henry waved off his guards. With only him and Nathaniel left in the room, Henry opened his arms. "No guards, no weapons on me. Despite the constant threat to my life, I am willing to show you that I trust you, Archibald."

Nathaniel bowed his head. "I am grateful, lord. I will not think to hurt the man who can unite us under one rule."

"There is a mission I would set you on, Archibald—one that is close to my heart."

Nathaniel swallowed. This was the time for him to take up the combat gear that he did not think he would wear again. "Before my father died, he had a daughter with Lady Eleanor Waldorf."

Nathaniel glanced up in surprise. He had always heard of Edmund Tudor as a man who was loyal to his wife, who only devoted himself to politics and religion.

"Only a very few people know about my sister, Archibald."

When the king referred to a sister, Nathaniel recognized that this was perhaps the most important mission that Henry would grant to a noble. "You honor me, sire, with this knowledge."

Henry nodded. "I have sent for Blair from our French exile, to take her place in my court. She was taken on route by foul rebels." Henry drew a shuddering breath. Nathaniel closed his eyes, knowing what was to come next. Why could the Yorkist rebels not leave the girl be? He could not believe the war he thought was over could possibly erupt over the fate of one girl. "I desire only to unite our land, but if my sister is not returned to me unharmed," Henry paused and Nathaniel felt the air thicken with tension, "I will despoil all the Yorkist keeps. I will salt their earth so they cannot grow their crops. I will poison their rivers so their cattle will die. I will storm their gates and set fire to their castles."

"Sire, no one wishes for that."

"Then fix it, Archibald," Henry advised. "You know these nobles who as yet have not pledged fealty to me. My sister is bound to be in one of those houses. Find her."

Nathaniel thought to his friends, his cousins in truth, because they all were descended from King Edward and thus the ceaseless battle for the crown, and wondered who could have Blair Waldorf. If he could help it, there would never be war again.

"I am to marry Elizabeth of York," Henry continued. "I would that my sister were to witness it."

And with such sentimental statement, Nathaniel recognized that Henry had just given him—and his Yorkist cousins—an ultimatum.

Nathaniel left the throne room with one fact heavy on his shoulders. There would be battle. The king did not send for him because he was the bravest, or the most loyal, or even the one with the closest claim to the throne. No, Henry VII sent for him to be his messenger. The message was loud, clear, and Nathaniel heard it well. Meet the deadline or suffer the wrath of a king.

~o~o~o~o~o~

Not once had she, in all her seventeen years, been subject to such humiliation, Blair thought to herself as she stepped back into the Yorkist bastard's—as she would likely refer to him forever now, ironic given her own illegitimacy—chambers. It had been a revelation, and an awful one at that, when she had inquired where her chambers would be.

The man had the shamelessness to chuckle and toss despicable garments at her to change into. Then, a knight, who viewed her with suspicion in his eyes, carried a thin pallet in and spread it out on the floor. Blair snorted in derision, then asked, "Do you expect me to lie on the floor like a mangy dog? We treat our beasts better in Calais!" she snapped at the knight.

"Watch your tongue when you speak to the duke, lady," the knight warned.

"Stand down, Sir Daniel," Chuck softly returned. "The lady is distraught. She will learn her place in time."

Blair glared at the duke, in anger and confusion both. Did he not think she could fight her own battles? She was, and always will be despite whatever treatment she received from them, a princess of the realm. "Well?" she demanded of the duke. "Are these my accommodations?"

"Blair, we are visitors in this keep," Chuck informed her. "And we do treat our beasts better here as well. Our beasts serve their purpose."

Her eyes narrowed at the insult. "You are despicable!"

Chuck nodded to dismiss Sir Daniel, and the knight retreated after another look at Blair. When the door closed behind Sir Daniel, Chuck turned to Blair. "I suggest you ease on the arrogance."

She arched an eyebrow at Chuck Bass. "Does it shame you to have your men watch me lash at you?"

He smirked. "I would rather that my men think of you as a Lancastrian brat than the spoiled bastard half-sister of the usurper. They will want to murder you less."

Blair paled at his implication. "Are you people so uneducated that you feel this hatred against the only man who could possibly unite your families? Even your own Yorkist lords turned to Henry in the heat of battle," Blair told him. "A Yorkist placed the crown upon my brother's head!"

"Stanley committed treason," Chuck spat. Blair turned her face away. "Sleep," he repeated his command. "You will have a long day tomorrow. I doubt your body is used to the work you will need to do."

She kept her eyes away from him as she regarded the pitiful pallet. In the coarse dress that he had provided her, she felt like the lowliest and ugliest woman in the world. No wonder he did not respect her. He did not even see her in all her glory, with her pretty tiara and fine gowns. Blair blinked back her tears as she knelt on her makeshift bed.

When she lay down her body, she knew there would be no sleep for her tonight. Blair spread out her arms, then turned to her side, searching for a position that would allow her body to relax. She counted to a hundred, but the hard floor was too evident against her head, and her body contorted with effort to lay in comfort. She groaned.

"If you prefer, princess, you may use my bed."

The Yorkist dog had some heart after all. "Oh thank heavens!" Blair raised herself up on her elbow, then managed to pull herself up to her feet. Her feet padded towards the bed. She looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

Chuck pulled the thin blanket and patted the space beside him on the bed. Blair's eyes widened at the sight of him on the bed in only his loose britches. "I despise you!" She turned on her heel and laid down on her uncomfortable pallet.

She tossed and turned on the thin pallet. She groaned in frustration. She spread out her arms, looking for a comfortable position. She blinked back tears.

Blair lay down on the pallet again. "I despise you!"

The sound of his laughter infuriated her even more. Blair laid on the pallet staring up in the darkness. Sleep would not come, but lying abed may soothe her body. The silence was deafening and she supposed that the duke had fallen asleep. She searched her brain for ways to escape this wretched prison. Her uncle and her guards were probably killed. She hoped one of them at least survived to tell Harry all they could about her abduction.

When Harry learned it, this duke would know the true wrath of a Tudor. She dearly hoped Harry made an example of them all. She would watch from the ramparts when they executed Bass. Only then would justice be served.

She hoped Jenny made it out alive. She hoped Jenny saved Cat. If Jenny failed to save her beloved Cat, given by her father, she would punish Jenny herself.

Sleep never found her. Blair wondered if she had taken the duke up on his offer, and lay beside him in bed, would she have fallen asleep by then? She was no shrinking innocent. She knew the body of a man. She had grown up watching the knights train in the fields outside her Calais home. After jousts they would wash up in the river within sight of her window. Blair recognized the evidence of Chuck Bass' attraction to her. It was like a proud Yorkist banner inside his britches. Then again, the uncouth man probably was attracted in any female that crossed his path.

She rose from the pitiful pallet and made her way to the table, then lit the candle. She took the candle with her and walked towards the window. She put it down on the sill and stared out into the lands. How far was she from home? If she screamed, would anyone save her? There was a faint light tracing the sky.

Blair gasped when she felt the body warming her back, pressing her against the window. A finger trailed across her collarbone and her eyes closed at the unexpected sensation. Her lips parted so she could breathe. His lips moved against her ear. His tongue teased the outer shell. She willed herself to pull away, to turn to slap him.

She could only roll her eyes from beneath her eyelids.

"You must have lived a solitary life," he said against her jaw.

"I had friends," she managed weakly.

"Friends?" he murmured, biting on her earlobe. "Or servants."

"They became my friends after a while."

"I pity the life you've lived," he said. Though his words would have stung, he said them so tenderly that she shivered. "No one to touch you like this, or to whisper in your ear."

"I do not long for a man's touch," she denied.

"Liar," he purred into her ear. His hand cupped her breast, and she clasped her hand over his. "You are a healthy young woman. You cannot tell me that you do not dream of this." His hand traveled down her breast to her stomach, then moved lower to hover right above where she throbbed. "Have sex with me," he whispered.

"What?" The wind blew out the candle.

"Just once, Blair."

"You disgust me!"

"Yet you clutch at my hand as if your life depended on it."

Blair snatched her hand away. She turned around and pushed at his bare chest. "I will not."

"This is how it's done. You should be honored that I am so willing to lay my hands on you. Many of the servant wenches will be green with envy."

"I am no servant to a man with an infant title," she stated. "My blood is pure; my lineage, stellar. I will not be called servant by the son of a man whose only claim to a duchy is his father's ability to annihilate his own countrymen," she threw at him.

"Yet you are yourself a princess through the very same thing Henry did."

"I am not spoils of war," she bit out.

"On the contrary." The corner of his lips lifted. He nodded towards the sun slowly climbing the sky. "I am to meet with friends in the main hall. You will serve me there."

Blair frowned. "And where are my clothes?"

"You would rather wear your flimsy shift?" he parried.

"Am I not to have proper clothes, Bass?" she asked, pointedly ignoring his title.

"I told you," he said softly, "you have no property here." He turned to pull a tunic over his head. "I shall expect you there before I arrive." Blair stomped her feet as she walked to the door. "You have not straightened my bed," he reminded her.

Blair bit back a retort as she backtracked to the bed and pulled at the covers. She pulled on one side, then walked to the other side to do the same. And then she stared at the still unkempt bed. Chuck glanced at her product and frowned. She thrust her chin up. "Tis the best I can do," she told him, her voice unapologetic.

His voice equally brooked no argument. "Do better," he said, then left the room.

Blair stared at the sheets and felt tears of frustration rising once again. Finally, she pulled off the sheets and with a mighty motion, allowed it to settle back down on the bed. It produced a better effect, as the sheet settle mostly free of wrinkles. She tucked the edges under the mattress and sighed.

Her arms already hurt.

For a moment, she wished she could lay down on that inviting bed and sleep. Surely he would not miss her if she did not appear in the great hall. He had a great many things to take care of. She jumped up when she heard a loud banging on the door.

"Blair, make haste!"

She recognized Sir Daniel's voice. She groaned and dragged her feet to the door. When she opened the door, she saw the knight glaring at her. Blair ignored him and stomped down the corridor.

"The other way, Blair," Sir Daniel instructed.

Blair turned around and stomped down to the correct direction. "I despise you all," she muttered as she passed by him.

The knight grunted, then said, "I find no pleasure in your presence here either. The men should not have taken you back here. One cannot trust a woman, least of all a Lancastrian woman. I think you will murder us all in our sleep."

She turned a sideways glance at the knight. "And where is my army to take down the lot of you?"

Sir Daniel shook her head. Blair, satisfied that she had knocked him down a peg, made her way to the great hall. When she arrived there, she noted at once Chuck looking at her in displeasure. How he could dare demand that she arrive before he did, when she had to labor through straightening his bed, was beyond her. Blair accepted the trencher from the kitchen maid and made her way to Chuck. It was a trencher made of hardened bread, and served to soak up the sauce of the thick stewed meat poured onto it. Chuck smirked at her when she stopped beside him. She narrowed her eyes and dropped the bread trencher onto its place in front of him on the table.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"Nothing spilled," then ever sweetly, "your grace." Blair finished with a smile, her head inclined to the side.

The men around him chuckled, and he saw his knights whisper at each other. She could tell by the way he set his jaw that he was barely restraining a desire to drag her out with him. One of the men, with shaggy brown hair, stopped chuckling and asked, "Did you even have time last night to think of your scheme, Bass? I would not fault you if you have not. Your company last night seems to be a handful."

"Did you come out wounded from that battle?"

"My back is torn and scratched like a vixen had attacked me," Chuck responded lightly. Blair's jaw dropped in surprise. "And I would keep her to myself until I've tamed her."

"Pity. I was intrigued," drawled a larger man, who appeared more unkempt and unruly.

"Baizen, I would not lend her to you even if I had finished with her," Chuck told his friend.

Blair assessed the other man. "And if I wanted to go, your grace?" Blair tested. "He is a handsome man."

The company hooted, and Carter smirked. "You can rip up my back all you want."

Chuck's voice was cold when he said, "Fortunately, Blair, you have no choice in this." He turned to the men. "I have come upon a scheme so brilliant we will not need to figure out how to get to Henry Tudor unnoticed. We will have Henry Tudor come to us."

Blair gasped. Sir Daniel interjected, "My lord, pardon my intrusion. Do you wish me to take Blair back to your chambers?"

"No. What can she do?"

"Tell us then, Bass. What is this brilliant scheme?"

Blair froze. He had asked her himself not to allow his own men to find out that she was Henry's sister. Surely he would not spill it now, when everyone was around. It would be so easy to erupt into fury in this company. Blair noted the various weapons she could tell were hidden under the innocuous doublets. She could die before she even had a chance to blink.

"Chuck," she whispered, her voice dropping now, as if it were a plea.

"It is best that I keep it secret for now," Chuck informed his friends. "But the scheme is far better than any you could imagine," he assured the table. "Believe me. One moon shall not pass before Henry VII himself is battering against my gates with a ram."

It was trust that made the men cheer at the vague promise. It was trust that Chuck needed. The forum was concluded and soon, the sons of the fallen Yorkists dispersed to their own keeps. He addressed his remaining men. "Prepare for our journey home. We leave within the hour."

The knights and soldiers in his service nodded and left the great hall, leaving their lord and their prisoner alone. Chuck turned to Blair. She swallowed at the sight. He was furious.

"You dare disrespect me in front of my men?" he thundered.

"You dare claim that you had me?" she yelled back.

"You cannot even keep your mouth shut when it would do you good!"

"You told them I was your whore, and only yours!"

He grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. "Do you wish to be ripped and torn apart by a man?" he asked in a menacing whisper. "That is what will befall you in Carter Baizen's bed. He cares nothing for a woman, and will near kill you. I was protecting you." Blair met his glare with a stubborn one of his own. "I told them I will keep you because if I did not, you will get passed around and they will tear pieces of you for themselves, like so much roast hare."

She breathed harshly in an effort to contain her wildly palpitating heart. "You should have said as much," she said softly.

"I owe you no explanation."

"I'm sorry."

Chuck loosened his grip on her. "We ride hard," he warned her. "Eat and be prepared."

Blair looked down at the table of leftovers. "Eat what?"

He shook his head, then pushed towards her the bread trencher soaked full with the fluids of his meal. Then, he placed his half-drunk cup of ale in front of her. She made a face of disgust and opened her mouth to complain. Chuck silenced her with a finger to her lips. "You are still a servant here."

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Astride his horse, Chuck scanned his party. His brother horse cantered to stop beside his. "Eric, where is the woman?" he asked, his lips thinned in impatience.

Sir Eric shook his head. "I did not see her, your grace. Let me return to the keep and search for her."

"No," Chuck said quickly. "I shall do it." The duke jumped off his horse and made his way back to the keep. When he returned to the inn, Chuck returned to the great hall where he had last left her. Surely she would not still be eating at leisure when he had told her that they were to leave for his own castle at the earliest.

He found her in the great hall indeed, but not as he expected. Blair knelt on the floor laying out fresh rushes. The hem of her coarse dress was now grimy with the dirt of the old rushes. With her back bent over her labor, her dark hair fell in curtains on both sides of her face. He strode towards her, then stopped right on the freshly strewn rushes. "The day grows late," he informed her. "The sun is high in the sky."

She looked up at him, and Chuck could see the beads of sweat on her forehead even though it was winter. "The servants were asked to change the rushes," she told him, her voice cold. "And I am a servant." Blair took more of the straw in her hands and laid them out next to Chuck's dusty boots.

Chuck grasped her arm and pulled her up to her feet. "You wish to infuriate me with this delay." Blair gasped as she was forced to stand. She dropped the rushes at his feet. She let out a murmur of pain. At the sound, Chuck encircled her wrists with his hands and held up her hands. He glared at the blisters on her palms and fingers. "You did not bring this to my attention," he said quietly.

"You would not care," she responded, her voice strong.

"You cannot be certain." When she looked up at him in surprise, he added, "I do not wish my servants injured. They serve less and sloppily."

Blair tried to pull her hands away, but he held fast. Chuck drew his water flash from his belt and poured water over her hands to cleanse them. Blair flinched at the stinging sensation.

"You are a princess," he said. "Be brave. Tis but a little pain." He should have asked Eric to take her out instead. Chuck had no place in his head for pity, especially not pity for a Tudor. Still, it grated in his gut to know that she was hurt because of him.

Blair set her jaw and allowed his to cleanse her wound, then closely followed behind him after he silently kept the flask and headed out. When they came to the courtyard, Blair searched for a horse of her own. Finding none equipped to take her, she informed Chuck, "My lord, I know only to ride on a sidesaddle."

"There are no such luxuries here," he told her as he settled onto his own mount.

"Then how—"

She then found herself lifted up by her upper arms, then placed right in front of Chuck Bass on the horse. She stiffened when she felt him against her back. When he kicked at his horse, they broke into a steady gait that caused her to slid down the saddle and onto him. Unused to the position on the saddle, she used her injured hands to grab at his thighs, tensed as they were as he gripped onto the body of the horse. She gasped at the pain of the contact.

"Easy, Blair," he whispered into her ear. "I am right here."

She drew in a breath. Blair held her injured hands together close to her breast. It was then that Chuck held the reins in one hand, then pulled his mantle from his back to wrap her hands in its soft material. The mantle now appeared to envelop them both. "Keep them there," he commanded. "They will be warm and safe. There is a half-Gypsy on my grounds who will provide us with salve too soothe them."

She nodded, and he felt the movement against his chest. Blair leaned her body back against his, and sighed. "I do not like it here in this company," she admitted, none of which was a revelation. "My hands burn; my body aches." Blair blinked back tears.

"You are unused to labor," was his answer. "Everyone must work in England, even noblewomen." He lied, and he admitted it to himself. Sure enough, his sister worked, on tapestries, on adorning the house, on seeing to the gardens. Serena had never worked the way Blair had been asked to for the past day she was under his wing. He looked down at her when she grew heavy against him, and realized that she had fallen asleep within his arms. The princess' body rebelled against the measly meal that he even doubted she had touched, and the thin pallet, and most of all what to her was likely intensive labor. Her hands clutched at the soft material of his mantle in his sleep, almost as if she were clutching her old life.

Chuck raised his eyes to the road ahead. Henry had better come battering his gates for his sister soon. Chuck dislike the voice in his head that berated him for involving an innocent girl—spoiled as she were—in this battle for the crown. Politics was man's territory.

He continued on the path. Blair slept through the trip. Chuck maneuvered her position leaning against him so that her head pillowed on his arm. It was then that Eric turned his horse to call his brother's attention to allow the men to rest in safe grounds. When the young knight reached Chuck, he looked at Blair. "Do you want me to take the burden?"

Chuck met Eric's eyes without flinching. "Tis no burden," he assured his brother, his voice quiet, unobtrusive.

"Well you may wish to wake her. We stop here for supper."

"We ride through the night," Chuck reminded Eric.

"Aye," Sir Daniel answered as he trotted towards the brothers. "We ride through the night after we attend to the steeds." And then, unexpectedly to Chuck, Daniel reached a hand towards Blair and shook her. "Blair, attend to your master's horse."

Chuck felt her stir in his arms, underneath the warm covering of his mantle. The impending night brought only coldness, and due in part to his insistence on treating their captive lower than a peasant, she had no other clothes save for the coarse dress from the morning. Blair opened her eyes and straightened. The cool air brushed against his body where she had been lying against. She herself shivered.

Instead of a protest, Chuck was surprised when the princess looked around her and asked, "Where is the water well?"

Sir Daniel pointed several yards away. "There is a small lake. Take the horse and have him drink from there." The knight turned to the duke. "Sire, we have supper roasting this way."

Chuck nodded, then held Blair as she slid off the horse. He followed suit. Chuck removed his mantle and placed it over the horse. He soothed his horse, urging the stallion to be kind to its caretaker. He handed the reins to the princess and closed her hand over the leather strip, showing her how to hold it so she would not touch her injury. "Wear the mantle," he told her, then turned to leave with his knights.

He reached the crackling fire that the men had created. Chuck sat within the circle and speared himself a piece of the roasting venison. Eric handed him a piece of bread, which Chuck tore through in his hunger. He glanced towards the direction of the lake. He hoped she wore his mantle, for even in front of the fire he was still cold.

"Only about three hours to your castle, sire," Daniel said cheerfully. "Are you looking forward to it?"

Chuck nodded. "Eric is certain to be eager. Our sister awaits."

"Aye. No matter the sibling squabble, any time away makes your heart grow fonder for those left behind," Eric offered. "What of you, Sir Daniel? Are you eager for your Gypsy's waiting arms?"

"More like the Gypsy's warm, fragrant bed!" a soldier commented, causing Daniel to chuckle.

"The name is Vanessa. Remember it for when you next see her."

Chuck turned to his brother. "Save a piece of bread for Blair, and some meat." Sir Daniel looked up at his duke. Chuck told him, "She has not eaten all day. She must preserve her strength."

The vulgar laughter was expected from his son, and Chuck ignored it. He rose to his feet, then watched the path to the lake. "Has she returned with my horse?"

"She cannot ride it, my lord," Daniel assured him. "There is no way she could have stolen it."

Chuck stepped away from the fire and walked towards the lake. His heart thumped heavily in his chest as he moved closer. Eric fell into step beside his brother. There was a neigh, then the noise of hooves. Chuck's stallion burst through, and Chuck caught it by the flapping reins. "Easy, easy!" he murmured to the panicked horse. He waited for a moment for Blair to run towards them. When she did not, Chuck handed the horse to Eric, then ran towards the lake.

The clearing to the lake was empty. He stopped at the edge, then saw his neatly folded mantle at his feet.

"Blair!" Chuck yelled. "Blair, where are you?" He turned around, searching for a clue. Then, he tracked the marks on the soil, but found nothing of importance. "Lady!" he called out, careful not to call Princess even in his haste.

The color was dark, and against the dark water in the night, it was easy to miss. The figure floated off in the lake facedown. Chuck cursed and pulled off his heavy boots, then jumped into the freezing water and waded towards the body. Once he reached her, he turned her over to her back and pulled her back to land. She laid her on the leafy grass. He slapped at her cheeks.

Out in the air, the cold made his hands stiff, her teeth chatter. "Blair!"

He looked down at the blue lips of the pale princess, then bared his teeth. He shook harder, then pounded on her chest. He had seen another give the gift of life once, and he knew he had to do it this time. He would not live knowing a girl had died while he used her for his own gain. Chuck placed his lips over her cold slack ones and breathed for her. He repeated the process over and over until she gasped, choking out lake water and grasping at his tunic.

Chuck held her against his chest. "What were you thinking?" he whispered.

Tearfully, she whispered, "Escape."

His eyes shut tightly at her admission. He had thought there would be, but there was no pride in breaking the princess. "You fell into the water when you were leading the horse," he told her firmly. She nodded, her teeth chattering. "Wait here." Chuck laid her back down on the grass and took his mantle, then wrapped it around her. He lifted her in his arms.

"I should walk," she protested. "You cannot be seen carrying your servant around."

"I am Duke of Norfolk. I shall do as I wish," he told her, carrying her closer to his chest. He emerged from the clearing to find his brother still holding the reins of the horse.

Eric nodded at Chuck. Chuck placed Blair on unsteady feet as he climbed onto the horse. Then, he reached down for Blair, and Eric himself provided her with assistance. Chuck was dripping lake water, and Blair was drenched and wrapped in Chuck's mantle.

"Where is it?" Chuck asked. Eric left, then returned moments later with bread and meat. Chuck took the food, then handed it to Blair. "Eat. You will need your strength."

She licked her lips. "I do not want to eat."

"It will warm your body," he told her.

And so, reluctantly, she bit into the bread. After eating, she leaned her head back against his chest once more. Moisture from her hair seeped into his already wet tunic.

They dried in the cold night air. As they approached the castle, Sir Daniel sent one of the knights ahead to prepare a feast inform Lady Serena of their arrival. And so, as they neared the castle, the heavy gates were rolled down. Chuck noticed Blair sit up in front of him in anxiety.

"Eric!" Serena cried from the castle steps, having seen her younger brother first.

"How do you do, Serena?" returned the blonde knight.

"Where is our brother? I have news from Lancaster," she called out. "Lord Archibald has stopped in search for Henry's precious cargo. He tells me that Chuck would know—" her voice trailed away at the sight of Chuck riding in with a woman in front of him.

"A cargo," Blair repeated with renewed hope.

Chuck cleared his throat. Blair already appeared worse for wear. Very apparent in her appearance was her dunking and consequent drying out in the air. Her coarse dress was muddied and her hair in wild abandon around her head. She was in stark contrast against his sister, who stood on the step perfectly coiffed. He frowned. "Serena, are you wearing a chemise?" he demanded.

"Aye," the blonde answered.

"And did you entertain Lord Archibald in this?"

"He came unexpectedly," she defended.

"Change into clothes more appropriate for company," Chuck commanded. He felt Blair stiffen in front of him. At least she saw that he was short of temper not only towards her but even towards his own sister. He lifted Blair off the saddle and helped her onto the ground. "Take Blair with you and lend her a dress."

Even as Serena had been glaring at her own brother, she turned to Blair with welcoming warmth. Serena extended her hand. Blair hesitated. She fisted her hands, then looked up at the duke. He noticed her glassy eyes, and the way she wavered on her feet. She needed to rest. He did not wait for her to ask. Instead, he assured her, "I will have Daniel seek out the salve."

Blair nodded, and Chuck could tell she was torn between saying something and leaving it be. Their roles had shifted through the entire trip. Now she could no longer hiss at him the way she did before. He was now the man who both held her captive and saved her life. Even he was reluctant now. She had started off the day as the spoiled princess bent on verbally abusing him and ended it as a damsel in distress. Chuck blamed his training for knighthood. Since seeing her teary with her mangled satin hands, he could not see an enemy in her.

"You may change, then be certain that my bed is made before I come."

He knew his sister observed keenly to place his interaction with the lady, to find her place, to figure out what relationship they shared. He answered Serena's unspoken query. "Take her back to my room when you are done. She will prepare it before she rests."

"She is dead on her feet," Serena said softly. "We have servants who can do it in her stead."

Chuck turned to Sir Daniel and tossed the reins to him. He heard Serena huff and turn away, taking Blair with her. To his knight, he said, "Have Vanessa bring a jar of her soothing salve. Blair's hands are blistered and sore."

Sir Daniel bowed his head. One did not ask when a direct command was given by his master. Chuck turned to go into the castle, but Daniel called him back. "What of Lord Archibald, sire?" he prompted, reminding Chuck of Serena's words.

"Henry seems to have found a new ally in Archibald," Chuck said to his knight. Eric walked over to where Chuck and Daniel conversed.

"Have you inkling, brother, of what this cargo is? I have no taste for war this time."

Chuck set his jaw. He looked up at the shuttered windows where he knew her sister was with Blair. "Could it be a cargo of wine from Portugal?" Chuck said lightly. "The usurper loves his spirits."

"Not enough to send a Lancastrian noble scouring the country for it," Eric pointed out.

Chuck remembered Blair's arrogant claims of Henry's punishment to those who took her. Even when he doubted discovery, he had been gravely concerned of his brother's fate. If any one of Blair's party had survived, he could easily point to Eric as the perpetrator. In Blair's account herself, it was Sir Eric that dragged her away. Chuck would die before anyone could touch his brother.

"Never mind the perceived threats of Henry," Chuck told them. "Sleep in your beds tonight, lads. I will send a messenger to Archibald and find out what the usurper has lost."

And then, the window above was thrown open. The three looked up to find Lady Serena waving frantically at Chuck. "Your grace!" Serena cried out. "Come quick. It's the lady. I cannot wake her!"

Chuck sucked in his breath, then turned to Sir Daniel. "Best send for the gypsy instead, Daniel." He then ran to the castle and up the flight of steps to his sister's chambers. He pushed open the door and demanded, "What has happened?"

Serena stood above the fallen girl. Chuck strode towards Blair, then knelt beside her. Her forehead was now beaded with moisture, and she took quick, shallow breaths. Chuck laid his palm against her forehead. "She is burning with fever," he realized. He cursed the sensitive bodies of those born into royal households. He himself had ridden hard, dove into the same lake and ridden through the night air as she, but he felt nothing amiss.

He would not hear the end of this from Blair once she woke. Chuck gathered her in his arms and thought idly of the insults she would heap on him for not being affected by the fever that fell her. Leather skin, she would likely call him. Or peasant stock. That sounded more like her. She groaned in his arms and realized he was holding her against his still very dusty clothes.

"Which chambers are free?" he asked his sister.

Serena led the way. "The one next to mine. Chuck, she insists she sleeps on a pallet on the floor of your chambers. Is it true?" his sister inquired in disbelief. "Tell me it is a lie. Our parents raised you well, and our late father taught you how to treat a lady." Serena paused as she opened the door to the next room for Chuck to take Blair inside. "Enemy or not."

He glanced at his sister in surprise, because he mentioned nothing of Blair's side in the war. But Serena had always been smart in assessing him, so he allowed it to slide. "Leave politics to me," he advised his sister as he laid Blair out on the bed. Blair should be satisfied enough with this, he thought. It was no thin pallet but cushioned with the finest down they had.

"When did politics involve women?" she asked softly.

Chuck leaned to feel Blair's temperature again. "You have told me yourself of the great parts that Eleanor Plantagenet and Cecily Neville have played in these wars."

"They were queens," Serena pointed out. "What crime did Blair commit that you involve her so?"

"Where is that gypsy?" Chuck muttered. "Her fever rises." He sat beside her on the bed, then pats her cheek. "Waldorf!" he called softly. "Blair Waldorf, open your eyes."

He sighed in relief when her eyes fluttered open. "You gave us a scare."

She moved her body, then flinched with the ache. "You have worked me to death," she murmured. "It's true, you cur," she pronounced in her raspy voice. "You have killed me with labor."

Serena choked at the exchange. She did not know whether to laugh or to be offended by how the girl spoke to her brother. Chuck was the man who could now raise a Yorkist army, and yet the fevered lady spoke to him like he were her servant. "Keep her awake," she urged.

"No," he said in response to Blair. She was surprised by the gentleness to Chuck's voice. "You did this to yourself, you brat. Did you truly think you could wade through an icy lake and find your people magically waiting on the other side?"

Blair closed her eyes with a sigh. Chuck shook her shoulder so she would open them. "It was sloppy and unplanned," she admitted in defeat. "I have no place in this war. This war is for uncouth barbarians such as you."

He chuckled. "When you are better," he told her, "I will teach you strategy. Then maybe, princess, you will not go leaping into icy lakes with no plan of action afterwards than to fall sick."

She licked her dry lips. "That is generous. There is something more generous."

"What is it?"

"Please let me go."

Something clenched inside his chest, like he had too much wine or food. The plea was real; the guilt he had been fighting from the start of the day, even more so.

The door swung open and Chuck turned. Daniel bowed to Chuck. The half-Gypsy Vanessa stepped inside and nodded at the duke. "Your grace, you have sent for me."

"Aye," Chuck answered. He gestured towards Blair, who now turned her steady, pleading gaze at him. "The lady runs a fever."

Vanessa sat on the bed beside Blair. She felt for the fever, then turned to the others in the room. "Leave us."

Serena made her way to the door that Daniel held open for her. Chuck looked at Blair another time, then told Vanessa, "And if you have salve. Her hands need mending." He turned away and left.

Serena stood there waiting for him. Chuck closed the door behind him. "Thank you, Daniel. You may retire." The knight nodded and strode to the stairs.

Chuck turned to face his sister. "Princess?" she asked quietly.

"She is spoiled. She thinks of herself as one," he managed.

She frowned at him in disbelief. "So it is true? You have treated her foully for being Lancastrian?"

Serena did not know the half of it, but within an hour with Blair she knew more than Eric or Daniel. "Stay with her," he asked of his sister. "Before the Gypsy leaves, ask her for some salve to treat her hands with."

"Aye," she promised.

"If you have garments you can give her, she would appreciate it. If there is none, lend her some. We will procure the rest at the fair." Serena nodded. "I am not evil, Serena," he told her.

"I know it. It is your prisoner that does not."

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I am addicted to this story. I could not sleep until I churned this out. I have work in a few hours. Sigh.

Part 4

Her head throbbed, and her mouth felt as if she had swallowed wool. Blair Waldorf opened her eyes and blinked several times, willing her eyesight to clear. She remembered arriving in the Yorkist's castle like it was a faint dream. Looking at her strange surroundings she realized it was reality. She wondered where Bass was. She could not even think to call him names when she had the heavy feeling he had done something for her the day before.

Blair remembered falling into the water. She shut her eyes tightly. Oh yes. He saved her life.

Something told her she had better be nice for at least a few days.

The door opened and in walked a statuesque lady with golden hair. The sight of her brought a smile to her face despite her discomfort. "Blair, this is good. You are awake." The woman smiled. "My name is Serena. I'm Chuck's sister."

Blair's gaze fell to the folded pile in Serena's arms. "Are those for me?" she asked in a natural burst of entitlement. Fortunately, Serena nodded. "Is it true?"

"You can choose from these dresses." Serena placed the dresses down on the bed. "If you find very few you like, there is a fair in the village that we can visit. We shall get garments there."

Blair sat up and immediately picked up her newly washed chemise. This was the fine undergarment that she had worn when she arrived in England, the one she wore under her gown when she was abducted. She searched immediately through the cloth and felt its edges.

"What is it?"

The princess sighed and shook her head. "I fear I had lost something precious to me."

"What is it? I will help you find it."

"My heart." Then Blair clarified, "It is a small golden brooch in the shape of a heart. It was my mother's gift to me before she gave me—" Blair amended her statement, mindful of Chuck's reminder to keep her identity secret. "Before she left me." Although she doubted that Serena would want to harm her should she learn that she was a Tudor princess, Blair knew the speed with which secrets spread once it was said aloud. "It was a gift my father had given my mother before he passed."

"Your mother left you?" Serena asked, latching on to the statement that was delivered so neutrally.

"Aye. It was a long time ago."

"It must pain you still," Serena added.

Blair shrugged. She had been raised well in the Tudor household. Her brother, all of eleven, a young man when she was born, had taken on the role of protector at once, and even guardian once Edmund Tudor died. The little that she remembered of her own mother were short visits when Eleanor Waldorf happened to pass through Calais. "I knew not what it was like with a mother," she told Serena. "I long for nothing."

It occurred to Blair that she had said the same to the duke when he had pressed his body against hers and asked her if she longed for a man's touch. Having never known it, how was it that a leap of fire kindled low in her belly when he had so lewdly propositioned her? Blair hoped none would tempt her with care like a mother's. She had no interested in being drawn to something she did not know.

"Your father had died, and you barely knew your mother."

"My brother adores me," she told her friend.

Serena nodded. She had no doubt of Chuck and Eric's regard for her, but they were often away in the business of war, or diplomacy. Chuck had been envoy to other kingdoms in Richard's reign. "You lived by yourself," she concluded.

"The household was my family," Blair answered simply. And they revered her, which made the love they gave her suspect. She looked at the beautiful lady with a twinge of guilt, because Serena seemed to have what she did not. With two brothers who cared for her, and a warm household—even if the occupants were knights and servants—that cherished her. Blair had been served and admired, whispered and sung about. But she had never milled about with the folk that served the earl of Richmond. She had not done everything in the freedom that Lady Serena seemed to. "I have never been to a village fair."

"Have you not?" Serena gasped. "Were there no fairs where you grew up?"

"None I was allowed to wander into," Blair confessed. She sighed. Blair shook her chemise free and hoped for a miracle that her heart brooch will fall. "It's gone." Her own heart sank in her chest at the prospect of such great loss.

"Blair, I'm sorry. I did not find a brooch or a pin on the dress."

"It is probably forever lost," Blair whispered. "How apt. My mother said to give it only to the man I loved."

Eleanor had arrived in Calais one day, after two years of absence, to find her daughter grown up into a blossoming young woman of twelve. Henry had been a young man by then, and had been, at that age, more involved in matters of England's royal ascension. Eleanor Waldorf had placed the pin on her daughter's fine gown and said, "Here. You may have your father's heart. You will need this reminder at least to survive this war."

She had not known what war it was that Eleanor spoke of, but Blair had looked at the glimmer of ruby and gold on her gown and adored it. "Mother," Blair informed the woman that bore her, "Harry will always protect me."

"Men love and leave, Blair. It is what you must remember. Do not put give your whole heart away."

The little girl had frowned and asked, "One cannot give a piece of her heart, mother." She had been a sage, even as a young girl, Eleanor had said. "Else it will break."

Eleanor had cupped her little daughter's smooth cheek. "They are raising you to be a princess." Blair had nodded, happily. "It will be a lonely life, my darling."

"I am always with people that Harry trusts."

Eleanor had straightened and looked around her, and noted the eyes of Tudor knights carefully observing them. "Do you feel alone?"

And that she had admitted. "Many times, even surrounded."

Eleanor had bent to kiss her daughter's cheek. "This is the last you will see of me, my darling. Mother is ill, and will no longer travel to Calais." Tears rose in Blair's eyes at the prospect. She had not seen her mother for so long, but as long as Eleanor did not say this, she could always hold out hope of a visit at any time. "I shall die on the grounds of my own childhood keep." She had patted the heart on Blair's dress. "This heart was your father's, which you will always carry with you. And when I die, Blair, this heart will be mine too."

"Mother, take me with you!" Blair had exclaimed when Eleanor turned to leave.

"You will always have my heart, princess. This is a symbol of devotion," Eleanor had reminded her. "Hold it close when you are lonely in a world that adulates you. Give it up only when you find one you know deserves to carry a piece of you forever."

Blair had sniffled and clutched at her mother's skirts, suddenly no longer a regal princess but a mere child. "My husband, mother?" she had thrown at Eleanor, anxious to keep her mother talking. Perhaps then night would fall and Eleanor would need to stay.

Eleanor Waldorf had then pulled Blair to her and then wiped the girl's tear-stained cheeks. "Blair, Harry will possibly arrange a suitable marriage for you. You belong with the man he will choose." Blair blinked back the tears so she could memorize her mother's face as Eleanor imparted her last advice. "That man deserves your loyalty and your obedience. It is your lot in life." Eleanor placed a hand to cover the brooch that was right above Blair's heart. "But this. Do not be afraid to give this to man you will choose."

Blair released a shuddering breath, then shook her head clear of the memory. The only thing she had left of her old life, and of her family, was gone. But she was a princess, and she had survived all that had befallen her. She would survive even this loss.

Serena placed a consoling hand on Blair's back. "I have the thing that will make you happy," Serena told her new friend. "Do you like these chambers?"

"This is heaven after where I had slept in that keep," Blair murmured.

"Good." With barely contained enthusiasm, Serena announced, "This is yours. Or if you wish, we can choose another for you."

Blair eyes narrowed. "Does the duke know you are doing this?" Blair tested. The chambers were not as fine as her rooms in Calais, but she was nothing to these people.

Serena smiled. "It was his command."

At that, Blair was dumbfounded. She picked up one of the dresses that Serena had lent her and determined that it would require hemming, but it was far better than the coarse clothes she had been given. "He told you I may use these?" At Serena's affirmative nod, Blair gasped. "Will you lend me a needle and a thread?"

Serena laughed softly. "Do you know how to use them?"

"Will you teach me?" Blair returned.

"I do not sew. There are servants for that."

Blair frowned. "Bass said you did."

"I am sinfully lazy," Serena admitted. "Chuck complains of it. I do not know why he would tell you otherwise."

The chapel bells rang and Blair looked up in surprise. "Is it supper time?" she asked.

"Aye. We make our way to the dining hall. You slept through the day." Blair closed her eyes, then shot up from the bed. She wavered at the blood rush, then hurried to the door. "Where are you going?" Serena called after her.

"To straighten the duke's bed," Blair said in a rush. Once supper was done, Bass would spend only a few moments more with his men before retiring. If she had slept through the day, it meant that the bed was yet unmade since the morning. She had just been granted acceptable chambers and a few garments. She could not show him any reason to take them back. She was certain they were given begrudgingly, and could be taken away as quickly.

She opened the door to the duke's chambers, the largest of all, with the finest oak door, and stepped inside. Blair stared down at the pristine sheets, pulled and tucked that she could imagine a coin bouncing off the tight covering. Someone had made the bed. She turned to leave when a glimmer on the window sill caught her attention. Harry had always said that she had such predictable feminine attraction to baubles. The sparkly invited her to it, and Blair moved to take a look.

"My brooch!" she exclaimed. Blair picked up the tiny accessory and looked down at it. With a satisfied smile, she slipped it into her pocket.

"You know," came Chuck's voice from the doorway, "stealing is a crime punishable by flogging in the courtyard."

Blair whirled around and saw him leaning against the door frame. She closed her hand around the heart brooch and then held it close to her chest. She thrust up her chin. Just when she thought he was developing humanity, he turned and did this. "You will not dare touch me," she challenged.

Chuck Bass strode towards her slowly, lazily, tauntingly. He stopped when he was mere inches away and leaned close as he whispered into her ear, "Careful, princess. You do not know me."

Distracted by his nearness, she turned around and immediately realized her error when he pressed against her in the same delicious contact he had done before. "Again, Blair? A man might think you enjoy this." He closed his hand around the one she used to clutch tightly at the brooch.

Blair shifted uncomfortably, then heard him quickly inhale. She felt the protruding hardness against her bottom. "Get away from me," she cried out. "You are like an animal. You can not control even your basest urges."

Chuck narrowed his eyes at her, then started to pry her fingers open. "It's mine!" she cried out. Blair rushed away from him and found herself tumbling onto his well-made bed.

Chuck jumped in after her and caught her by the waist. He trapped her with his leg and she found herself breathing harshly underneath him. He pulled her fingers open then took the pin from her. "You are my property now. Anything yours is mine."

She snapped at him, "You are worse than a bloodsucking leech. You are like a husband," she said in disgust. Blair slapped at his chest until he moved off of her. "Unwanted and territorial, owning a woman's treasure as your own."

Chuck snorted. "Marry a Tudor?" And then he stopped, his eyes gleaming. "Marry a Tudor." He laid on his side with his elbow on the cushion and his chin on his hand.

"No!" She shot up from the bed. She shook her head vehemently. "No, no, no, no, no."

"You were the one who suggested it. What game are you playing, princess?" he taunted. Chuck pulled himself up to his feet, the held the brooch between his fingers. "It is a pretty little thing," he commented.

Blair hopped in an effort to snatch the pin away from him. "It's mine."

"Perhaps I wish to keep your heart with me."

Without blinking, she said, "I want it back."

"Say please."

"Please," she said without hesitation. "Please, my lord, my father gave it to my mother before he passed." Even without the arrogance, she still managed to remain proud as she begged. "I do not wish to lose it."

"I want something in return," he said in a low voice.

She felt what he wanted. She felt it against her bottom just moment back. Her eyes fell to his body. "What?" she asked breathlessly.

"A kiss."

She turned away, stalked to her new chambers then slammed the door. It was but a few moments later when the door opened. She turned around and demanded, "What do you want, Bass?"

Chuck sat on the bed behind her and then held out his fist. He opened his hand to show her the pin. Blair turned around to look at him. "Truly?" she asked. She could not bear it if she reached for it and he took it away, only to reveal that he had only been taunting her. In answer, he took the brooch and pinned it to her dress. "Something this beautiful deserves to be on someone worthy of its beauty."

She blinked back tears as she looked down at her brooch pinned next to heart, where it should be. Blair gave him a grateful smile. "You had to make it difficult."

Chuck granted her a rare smile, then shook his head. "I did, but I know not why."

Blair allowed herself a soft chuckle. "You will be the death of me."

"And you will be mine," he returned.

Blair met his gaze until the soft laughter faded, and she felt herself draw near him. Her eyes flickered to his lips. Blair held her breath and she moved closer and brushed her lips against his. Chuck's mouth opened underneath hers and she felt his tongue glide against hers. And then his hand held onto her nape as he deepened the kiss. It was he who pulled away first, resting his forehead against hers and breathing harshly.

"I want you," he said to her quietly.

She gasped for breath. The kiss had left her lightheaded, faint. "You cannot have me," she said, her hand ran over his doublet, belying her words.

He cleared his throat, then pulled himself up to his feet. He shifted and pulled himself together. And then he held out her hand to her. Blair did not move her eyes away from his as she gave him her hand. "I should go," she said.

"You should. I will be in my chambers, attending to—something," he finished.

"And I need to help serve your meal," she returned.

He held the door open for her, and Blair thanked him. Chuck entered his chambers. When he was gone, Blair closed her eyes and released a tremulous breath. Her lips tingled still with the sensation. Her fingers rose to touch where her lips throbbed. With a firm resolve, she muttered, "The nerve of that—of that Yorkist—" Her words had abandoned her. One kiss and she could not even come up with a strong insult. "That second duke!" she said, then made a face of disgust at her own weak choice.

She had helped prepare the food partitions that would be delivered into the dining hall. Even as she went into the hall with a trencher of food that she served to Chuck, who had finally made his way down, her body still thrummed with energy. She held her breath as she placed the food between Chuck and his brother. When he smiled, she was flooded by the memory of his tongue inside her mouth. Blair's lips parted.

"Blair," he said.

Blair started. "Your grace," she responded, to Chuck's surprise using the title.

"Come join us." She frowned in confusion. "Sir Eric," he addressed his brother. "Move over and share your trencher with Serena. Let us give a place for Blair."

Blair felt Sir Dan's suspicious gaze on her as Eric moved down the table and left the place of honor to Chuck's right to the prisoner captured by their own men. Blair sank into the seat, and Chuck raised his eyebrows in challenge. She recognized that he had placed her in the tense position for his own amusement. Blair reached for a piece of bread from his plate and dunked it into the thick broth between them.

"She eats with us now, sire?"

"She shares my trencher, and my mug," Chuck pronounced. He smirked at his first knight. "All the better assured I am that she has not poisoned my meal."

At that, Blair tossed the bread onto the table in front of her, then stood stiffly. She saw Serena watching in concern. Blair picked up Chuck's ale and drunk from the cup. "I have bitten into the food and swallowed your ale, my lord. If you will forgive me, I must retire. I find myself no longer starving." Blair stalked away from the hall.

"That barbaric Yorkist pig. That dung from a horse's arse. That slime from the bottom of a trough. That—" she continued as she stomped her way out.

"Are you to lie about, Blair?" Chuck called out after her.

It was her plan, but she would not allow him to bandy it about. "No. I was to prepare your bath. You stink to high heavens."

The comment caused him to grin. "You think to lift buckets of water by yourself?"

"As you said, lord, noblewomen from your house can do this labor. Of course I can do it as well."

"Suit yourself." Chuck watched as she vanished up the steps. When she was gone, he turned to Sir Daniel. "Finish up, Daniel," he instructed. "Go and lift the water for her. She had just recovered from a fever."

Sir Daniel rose and nodded. "I will save you some food, Sir Daniel," Serena offered.

The knight turned to leave. "Do not tell her I asked you to. She is too proud."

Chuck returned to his meal. He bit into his bread, then took one and set it aside on an empty pewter plate. He reached for a pigeon's leg and ripped it off, then placed it on the plate. "Hand me the cheese," he said to his sister, who sat to his left.

Serena cut for him two slices and laid it on the plate. She stifled her smile. "Anything else we will heap on her plate, Chuck?" she asked quietly. "How about mutton? She looks like a lady who enjoys mutton."

Chuck glared at his sister, then nodded.

"Chuck Bass," she drawled teasingly. "I never thought I would see the day."

"I am humane, sister," Chuck returned. "I do not condone the starving of servants." He took the full plate and filled his mug with ale. "I shall see you tomorrow," he said, then walked towards the stairs.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Sorry for not updating yesterday. I was dead tired from work. Do enjoy this one. And leave me a gift. You know what I like. (For those who have only started reading me, I mean reviews. Lol)

Part 5

"You cannot do even such a simple thing?"

Blair turned around and glared at the knight. Her face was red with exertion and Blair was certain that her hands, that have only just started to mend, would peel at the abrasive weight of the water bucket. It only then served to chafe even more that Chuck Bass' first knight could so easily speak to her in that manner. Blair dropped the bucket onto the floor, spilling water over the cheap shoes she had been given. She narrowed her eyes at the knight, then stalked towards him until she was so close she could almost hear his heart thumping.

Blair jabbed her finger into Sir Daniel's chest. "You do not speak to me in that manner!" she snapped. "I have held my patience with you, and I have had enough."

Daniel stepped back in shock. The lady had glared at him before with annoyance, but had never spoken out apart from an exclamation of hate. She came on strong now, and Daniel had never seen a woman do so. No lady in her right mind would speak to a knight so, unless she was so confident in her station. As a prisoner, Blair certainly had no right to be. "I will speak to you any way I choose."

She narrowed her eyes. Her voice dropped. "In Calais—Nay, in court," she corrected herself, "I could have had you drawn and quartered for looking at me the way do."

"Delusions, my lady?" Daniel parried. "Women tend to think so highly of themselves."

Blair's lips curved. She would relish every moment of the punishment that would befall this man once Harry saved her. "You are arrogant when you are a mere pebble in my shoe," she pronounced carefully.

Daniel walked to the bucket and picked it up. "Prepare the master's bath," he instructed her. "I shall bring the water in. Be grateful I am honor-bound to be chivalrous to a lady—Lancastrian or not."

Blair rolled her eyes. "If this is your definition of chivalry, it is no wonder that the House of York fell." Once the words were out of her mouth, Blair regretted them. But she was a princess and a mere knight did not warrant an apology. She quickly walked to Chuck's chambers and went to the chest at the foot of the bed. She knelt in front of it and pulled the heavy lid up. Carefully, she moved the folded tunics, marveling at the variety of colors that she did not find even in Harry's trunk. She drew out a folded green tunic and black britches. Behind her, Sir Daniel carried in two buckets at a time.

As Sir Daniel filled the claw-footed tub that had been placed at the center of the free space, Blair laid out the surprisingly varied selection of soaps. It was probably from the Gypsy, she thought. There were four scents that were familiar, and she had the same fragrances in Calais. Her maid Jenny had purchased them from a traveling band of gypsies in the Continent. She chose a bar that she particularly found heady. If she were to serve the man, he had best smell familiar.

By the time that Blair had picked out a washcloth, Sir Daniel had filled the tub. She straightened and found him leaning against the far wall, staring at her. "You are studying me."

"You are curious," he said.

"And you are fascinated," she stated matter-of-factly.

"You could have me drawn and quartered," he said, repeating her outburst for that night. "And you are proud. You are almost unafraid of where you are."

Blair lifted her chin. Chuck had warned her to be careful of who found out about her, but she was herself and she threw caution to the wind. "I am who I am. Surely your lord will not kill an innocent woman."

"Are you aware," Daniel asked softly, "of the hundreds of women and children who have perished innocently during this war?"

"I did not kill them. There is no call to punish me." Blair sat on the edge of the bed. "This is why I am unafraid. I am frustrated, and maddened. But no, I am not afraid. You, on the other hand, are so afraid of me that you are disgusted by my presence here."

"You are the daughter of the House that tore my family apart," he admitted. She frowned. "My father was a Bass soldier long before Richard III. My mother, a seamstress of the Percy clan."

Blair recognized the name. The Percy household had pledged fealty to her brother even in their exile. "They are loyal," she acknowledged.

"And my mother, far from it."

And it was the first that she sympathized with him, despite his sheer out of place disdain of her. "She left you." She recognized the sadness in his eyes, and she barely had a mother to lose.

"And carried my sister along with her. The Humphrey family was torn apart. Jenny was but three years old."

Blair gasped. "Jenny Humphrey!"

At that, Daniel looked at her in surprise. "You know her?"

"Know her?" Blair broke into a big smile. "She had been my closest companion for two years. Jenny served me well."

Daniel's frown deepened. The door opened and the duke walked inside. Chuck Bass carried a plate of food with him and handed it to Blair, who took the plate win surprise. The knight's frown turned into confusion as he assessed his lord.

Blair said, "I do not know what to make of you. Sometimes you are kind."

"And often you are exasperating," the duke said. "The bath looks inviting," Chuck drawled as he strolled leisurely towards it. He dipped his hand into the water. "With hot water. Thank you, Sir Daniel. You may leave."

The knight opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head. He glanced at Blair, then back at Chuck. "Sire, a word?"

"Not now, Humphrey. The day was long, and I shall take full pleasure in this bath. Speak to me tomorrow," he instructed.

Daniel jerkily nodded, then hurried out of the chambers. When Blair rose and walked towards the door, Chuck called her attention. "I said, Sir Daniel may leave. You are my servant. Surely, you had servants. You know what you should do."

Her jaw dropped, and she almost dropped the plate as well. "Bass," she said sharply. "You are a duke. Surely you can bathe yourself!"

His lips curved. Chuck took off his doublet. "As I am certain a princess can do the same. Yet still you had a maid, did you not?"

She half-screamed in frustration as she watched him pull the ties of his undertunic. "You jest," she said hopefully.

He shook his head with a smile. "I am rather enjoying having a servant. You have such a soft touch."

Blair growled, then placed the plate on the top of the chest. "Fine!" She would show him how opposite of soft her touch could be.

"Now yet," he told her. "I shall call you when you need to soap my back. For now, eat your supper," Chuck instructed. "If possible, I would appreciate if I did not need to bring you food. Eat in the hall like everyone else."

Her stomach growled. Even when she did not want to touch his offering, she found herself reaching for the mutton. "But I am not like everyone."

Chuck loosened his britches, and allowed them to fall to the floor. Blair's eyes widened at the sight of his slightly muscled thighs, reminded that he was no soldier first. She would remember to ask him what it was that he did before he had to join the wars. "Because you are a princess?"

"Because I am a servant," she pointed out. Blair looked up at his face, careful not to allow her eyes to wander as he moved to pull off his undertunic. She kept her eyes constantly on his. "Did you truly expect that I would stay as you tore my reputation to shreds?"

He laughed softly. "The small taunt about the poison?" She fumed at how comfortably he stood and bent to touch the water. He was naked, and he acted as if he were wearing a king's ceremonial robes. "You have no reputation to destroy here, Blair."

"I abhor you," she whispered, then bit into the meat.

"Do you?" he teased softly. Chuck stepped into the claw-foot tub and then sank into the water. Blair sighed in relief. "You flush as if you wished I were that lamb."

"You are shameless!" she returned. Blair bit into the mutton and consumed the rib. She nibbled at the bone, then dropped it. Her tongue flew out to licked her lips. And then she felt his gaze. Blair looked up and flushed. "I was hungry. I was asleep too long."

"Yet you truly feel you are a servant," he said in amusement.

"You certainly do not treat me as a princess."

Chuck slipped back into the tub and leaned his head back, then closed his eyes. When he did, Blair eagerly turned back to her plate and finished the food. It was no grand meal. The Tudor cooks prepared food better, yet in her deprived few days she had turned into a voracious glut. Blair finished the food he had brought for her. When she placed her plate down with a resounding clatter, she noticed Chuck turn to her.

"Good?" he inquired.

And despite her place now, she still maintained the grace of her station. "I thank you."

He smirked. "Now come wash my back."

Blair sighed, then picked up the washcloth she had prepared. She took the bar of soap then walked towards the tub. She shivered involuntarily. Blair dipped the washcloth into the water just above where his stomach vanished. Her breathing was tremulous. Underneath the water, he was barenaked, and the clarity of the liquid only brought it to home. When the cloth was soaked, she rubbed the soap in it and worked it to a later. "Sit up," she instructed curtly. Blair rubbed at his back heavily until she was certain his skin would fall off.

He hissed. "You have such a tender touch."

"I am happy you enjoy it, my lord," she murmured. She smirked in self-satisfaction at being able to hurt him with this at least.

"You think I will ask you to stop," he groaned. "I do not surrender so easily."

"Ah," Blair said softly. "This is why you have not given up on the war when it is so clearly lost."

Chuck grunted. "Wash my front." Her hand stilled. "I do not know why I need to say it. Your maid surely soaps the front too."

Blair raised the towel off his back. He leaned back. She jutted out her jaw stubbornly. "You are despicable."

"You have said it before," he reminded her. "You must come up with new ways to relay your disgust, Blair, because your body comes up with different ways to belie your words at every turn."

Her brows furrowed at his statement. And then she felt the cold. Blair glanced down at the front of her dress and noticed that the water had spilled onto the front as she scrubbed his back. She hastily covered her chest with one arm, hiding the nipples that now stood against the wet, darkened cloth. "It is the cold," she said in defense.

"The water is warm," he said. "First, you return my kiss, and now this. Princess, you have not acted like a princess since we met." He nodded towards the washcloth. "Now wash me."

Blair locked her jaw. He was arrogant and unapologetic. She had learned a thing or two in Calais from the servants as well. It was time that talents unrelated to her lineage surfaced. He would pay. Blair dipped the cloth again to moisten it slightly. She then reached for soap his chest. Chuck leaned back deeper into the water, forcing her to bend lower and soak even more of the front of her dress. Her gaze slammed into his when she realized his purpose. He smiled. Blair raised the cloth over the water, right above where she knew his crotch was. With full intent showing on her face, she opened her hand and allowed the cloth to drop with a splash. He jerked when he felt the cloth drifting under the water, caressing him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Looks like bath time is over."

He smirked. "I am certain it is clean. Pick it up, Blair."

Her eyes turned to slits. "That is beyond the duty of any servant!" she snapped.

Blair drew away her hand, but he gripped her wrist. "You started this game, Blair. Finish it." He guided her hand into the water and dipped it.

She shut her eyes tightly as her body froze. Her brain focused only in the sensation that she felt through the skin of her hand. The water was warm. The back of her hand brushed against him. Her lips parted and she heard him hiss as if it were painful. Finally, her fingers met the cloth. She quickly grabbed it and drew her hand away.

She gasped for breath. When she opened her eyes, she saw him staring at her heaving breasts. Her nipples were even angrier now. She kept her gaze away from his as she quickly rubbed lather into the soap again. This tasks was by far the longest and the most difficult of all the chores he had made her do. It needed to be over with and quickly. Blair laid the cloth against his chest and scrubbed, this time not intended to render him raw.

He remained silent save for the times when he cleared his throat. Blair put down the washcloth and cupped her hands under the water, then wet his chest and watched the lather drip into the water. She repeated the action over and over until his chest was clean. Then, she moved to kneel right by his head as she did the same for his back. All the while, she was conscious of her state of near undress with her gown molding to her skin.

"We are done," she said softly.

He turned his head and looked up at her. In her kneeling position, she was higher and his head was at the level of her elbows. She met his gaze, his unspoken words. She did not know what it was exactly that he asked with his look, but she found herself nod in affirmation. And then, his lips were soft against her cold, wet arm. Blair bit her bottom lip and threw her head back. A sigh escaped her.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she could feel herself moving to a mute rhythm as his hot mouth traveled to her clothed stomach. She felt her hands move of their own volition as her fingers buried in his hair.

She knew where it was going, and she knew it had to stop. Instead, her hands pushed at the back of his head, guiding the hot searing kisses to her cold breast. "Oh," she whispered as his mouth closed over her covered nipple. Blair took deep breaths. His hand cupped the other globe. His warm palm caused the breast to ache with need. Blair moaned, lost for what words to use to tell him what she needed. He looked up at her, and she met his gaze silently. Even without words, he understood, and she almost exclaimed when he moved his mouth to pay attention to the other breast.

"You are driving me insane," he murmured against the dress. His other hand reached for the dress and pulled it off one shoulder. "I am mad." Chuck looked up at her in confusion. "What is this?" he whispered. "It's as if butterflies have twisted free from their cocoons and burst flying inside my stomach."

She had not heard it described such, but she knew of a feeling like it. Blair had heard the servants describe the same, a few months before they sought Harry's permission to wed, then waxed full of their lover's seed. She blinked at him. "Do you like me?" she breathed, finding it odd to ask such when he had bared her to his sight.

"Define like," he said hoarsely. Chuck pulled the dress down until it fell to her hips and bared her breasts. With a gleam in his eyes, Chuck grinned at her, then parted his lips.

"Like." Blair held her breath as she watched him bury his head in the halo between her breasts. "This," she said. "This is like."

"Then I like," he answered. His lips blazed a tail to the soft skin in the underside of her breasts, and it was such a sensitive area to her that she saw stars bursting continuously on the back of her eyelids.

There was a loud rap on the door. At once, Blair gasped and whirled on her knees so fast she found herself fallen on her derriere. Chuck growled in irritation and glared towards the door. He rose from the tub, dripping wet. Blair stumbled to her knees and grabbed the drying cloth, then wrapped it around her chest.

"Cover yourself!" she cried out in a panic.

"Whoever it is will not open the door unless I call out," he assured her. He stepped out of the tub in his nakedness, then extended his hand. "Will you give me the towel?"

Blair made a face. "I need it. You have probably torn the dress!"

He smirked. "Then I cannot cover myself."

He was shameless and she was bothered. Blair turned her back on him, then tossed the drying cloth back. She hurriedly pulled the dress back to cover herself, but it had been worn too ragged by the water and his treatment of it. "This is awful," she muttered. "My own clothes would not give so easily to your abuse. It is this material"

Chuck snorted. "You will continue to complain until I provide you clothes as fine as what Harry has had made for you." Chuck used the cloth to dry himself, then slid on the britches to her relief. Blair watched as rivulets of water snaked down his chest. Anxiously, she picked up the tunic she had selected for him and held it up. Chuck grinned and allowed her to slide it over his head.

The dress drooped and started sliding down. "Do you think this," she pointed to the bare skin of her shoulder, "is acceptable?"

He smirked. "I do."

She rolled her eyes. "It is not acceptable to me."

Chuck stepped close to her and took her waist in his hands, then pulled her flush against him. Blair looked up. Her lips parted by their own volition when he leaned his head close to hers. "Give me a kiss," he requested.

Blair's lips curved. "Say please," she returned.

Chuck's gaze warmed. "You say you dislike it, but it seems you enjoy my game well enough to join."

"Say please," she repeated.

"Don't make me beg," he said huskily. "I'm dying."

Her eyes fluttered closed and she raised herself up on tiptoes. She teased his lips with hers. And the knock returned more urgently. She released a shuddering breath. "Not with someone at the door."

Chuck laid his forehead against hers, then nodded. He traced the neckline of her dress. "I shall rid ourselves of their presence," he promised. "Stay."

Blair held her breath and when he turned around, she sank onto the bed. Chuck pulled the door open and Blair saw that it was Sir Daniel who had interrupted them. Sir Daniel glanced at her darkly as he whispered into Chuck's ear. Blair folded her arms across her chest. Then, Chuck turned and appeared perturbed.

"I shall step out. It is a matter of grave importance."

"I shall retire," she said breathily.

He held up a hand. "I need you to stay in here. I will be back shortly."

Before she could say nay, he had closed the door behind him and left her by herself. Blair looked down at his discarded clothes and picked them up, then deposited them by the door. There was nothing she could do there, and despite the vestigial attraction to him that her body unwisely had for him, she was not going to wait around like his pet. Against his request, she decided to leave. He could find her in her chambers if he needed.

Blair shivered as the prospect of his anger when he found that she had disobeyed his direct order.

She pulled open the door and gasped when it did not budge. Blair's eyes widened. "Argh!" She pulled harder.

That bastard barricaded her in.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

AN: I am a bit concerned that you might be getting bored. Do not worry. The setting up is almost complete. Big things will happen soon.

Part 6

His heart pumped heavily in his chest, a steady staccato that he was almost certain Blair Waldorf could hear. He opened the door and saw his first knight. With a growl of displeasure, he bit out, "Someone had best be dying, Daniel."

"My lord, it is urgent."

Chuck leaned his head and listed to Daniel's news. "Lord Archibald is come. He has brought enough knights with him to hurt us."

There was no reason for Nathaniel Archibald to wish to fight with him. Of course, the knights were Henry's. The mission was Henry's. He glanced at his first knight and saw the dark glare he gave the princess. Chuck set his jaw and pushed at Daniel's chest. He closed the door behind him, then latched on the bar. "Can I trust you to guard this door?"

"If there is a skirmish," Dan started to protest.

Chuck shook his head. As the first knight, Sir Daniel should be the first to protect him, the first to fall if Chuck was to fall. He assured him, "Lord Archibald will not harm me. But I need you here more. Will you guard the door?"

Sir Daniel took a deep breath, then straightened. "I will never disobey an order from my lord."

"Good." Chuck turned down the dim corridor.

"Your grace!"

Chuck stopped, but did not turn around. "What is it?"

"I know," Daniel said.

This was when Chuck turned his head. "You do?" he said softly, looking only at the wall. Daniel was silent. "Then stay out there and make certain that she does not step out."

"Are we in danger?"

Chuck turned around and faced his knight. "We are always in danger while Henry is king."

"I know," Dan answered. He cleared his throat. "And your men had to take this one."

Chuck swallowed. "Stay close," he reminded Daniel.

"Sire, I wish to speak to the men who attacked her party. She has lost something then that is valuable to me," Daniel requested.

Despite how many years he had trusted Daniel, Chuck would not speak his brother's name in this conversation. His men had decided to take Blair for Chuck, and had not included his first knight. There was bound to be a reason even when nothing was apparent. Eric's name would not slip from Chuck's lips when Tudor men lined the entryway.

"Soon," Chuck vowed.

He made his way out into the darkening night. "Archibald," Chuck called out to the man who waited outside his castle. His cousin Nathaniel sat astride his horse, with his golden hair glowing under the moonlight. "Will you not step inside?"

Nathaniel watched the busy preparation happening in the village. He then turned to Chuck, then shook his head. "If you will, you may come out and face me man to man."

Chuck smirked at the dramatic pronouncement. He hurried out of the castle and stepped out onto the stone steps. The quicker this was over, the sooner he would return to his chambers. He imagined her face when she realized that she had been caged. Unafraid, Chuck walked straight into the circle of the Archibald men. They were out in the open in the busiest day of the year. The village within the castle walls was thrumming with excitement and the frenzy of the night's fair. Chuck's eyes went to the knight whose horse cantered and stopped next to Nate. Immediately, Chuck recognized the emblem on the knight's surcoat—a rose insignia. This time, instead of the White Rose sewn into his attire for his state visits or the Red Rose that had been stitched onto the sleeve of Nathaniel's, it was a double rose, Yorkist white on Lancastrian red.

"The Tudor rose," Chuck's voice rumbled when he recognized it.

"It is the English rose," responded the knight beside Nathaniel. "Your grace," the knight nodded at Chuck. "Aaron Rose."

"Well," Chuck drawled, "is that not a coincidence." He abhorred looking up at these men when it was they who were on his land. He walked towards the shade of the castle away from the Tudor and Archibald party. "Off the horse, Archibald, or you do not address me."

Chuck arched an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. Nathaniel conferred with Sir Aaron. Then, Nathaniel leapt off his horse. "You are still as stubborn as you were when you were a child."

The duke shrugged and waited for Nathaniel to come closer. Nathaniel stopped a few feet away from Chuck, but Chuck crooked his finger to urge him closer. Nathaniel frowned, but stepped forward. Chuck urged him even closer, and Nathaniel walked forward. Then, Nathaniel stumbled on the sudden elevation that he had not seen. Chuck's face broke into a smile. "And you, cousin, are oblivious as you have ever been."

Chuck stepped towards Nathaniel and gave him a warm embrace in greeting. "It has been too long, Nate," he said softly.

"It was out of our hands," Nathaniel answered. "But," he said as he pulled away, "I am here for the king."

"Ah," Chuck murmured, "who would have thought my cousin would become the long arm of the usurper?"

The blonde had the grace to appear affronted. "You should learn to think as I do, cousin, for our own survival. You cling to what is lost. I have sworn to end the bloodshed any way I can."

Chuck held up his hand. "You will not sway me," he warned Nathaniel. "Do not waste your breath."

Nathaniel assessed his cousin, then sighed. "I have left my message with Serena. I am certain you know."

"The cargo?" Chuck said pointedly. "There is nothing here."

Nathaniel's blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Neville," was his one word of response.

Chuck cursed under his breath. He should have known young Neville would spill. And though the young man knew only that there was a Lancastrian captive, Nathaniel as Henry's messenger would easily full the gaps in Neville's story and find out who exactly Chuck had left with. He came on the offense. "What did Henry offer you in return for this?"

"I am doing it for the good of England."

"That is a lie," Chuck accused.

"My entire line was wiped out, Bass," Nathaniel exclaimed. "We were an entire distinguished house all with born with the right to the throne. And now, Lancaster is left only with me."

The argument of ascension was effectively silenced by the rise of the Tudor, with less claim to the throne than any of the Lancastrians or the Yorkists who fought for it. Still, he had known Nathaniel, a very distant cousin, since they were children. Nathaniel Archibald had always been too engrossed in himself to convince Chuck of the reason he gave. His voice softened, "As a gift for your loyalty and to ensure no one will die, what has Henry promised you?" Chuck's lips curved in irony.

"Nothing," Nathaniel stressed. "But I will ask him for something, that will ensure my family will be forever allied with the king. The Archibald house will never be destroyed again."

His grin faded. "I knew it."

"A lifetime's alliance," Nathaniel finished.

"You will use her," Chuck stated.

Nathaniel's lips curled. Chuck saw the expression and knew that his cousin was not as dim as he thought. "Are you not doing the same?"

"Your cargo," Chuck said carefully, enunciating each word, "is not here, Archibald."

Nathaniel placed his hand on Chuck's arm. "I only seek to save you."

"You seek to save yourself and your gold."

Nathaniel stepped forward and said softly, "When Henry storms this keep, remember this night when you did not heed me."

"Nathaniel," Chuck answered, "if I am led to the executioner, you will be the farthest thing from my mind." He turned to the men waiting for Nathaniel. "You are welcome to stay if you wish to partake in our fair," he told them. "Our village can use your coins. But," he said as he looked pointedly at Nathaniel, "I would rather that you leave these lands."

He watched from his step as Nathaniel's party rode their horses to the gates. When he was satisfied that they were gone, Chuck made his way back inside the castle, to his chambers, where Sir Daniel stood guard. At once, when Chuck's footsteps sounded on the floor, Daniel's hand flew to his side where Chuck was certain rested the hilt of his sword. Upon seeing the duke, Daniel's hand rested at his side.

He nodded to dismiss Daniel, then stepped inside the room. The soft thud that knocked against his head surprised him. He had been too deep in thought about Nathaniel's warning that he had not prepared for this. Chuck's eyes widened as he saw the shoe drop onto the floor in front of him. He picked it up and waved it at Blair. And that was when he saw her.

And he heard for the first time in his head what a choir of angels probably sounded like when they sang.

With her lips pursed and her arms on her wrists, Blair Waldorf tapped her foot on the floor. She breathed deeply as if trying to calm herself. Most spectacularly, she had discarded the wet clothes she had been wearing when he left. He searched for it with amusement and found it peeking from under his bed. She thought to hide it because she found it ugly. Nathaniel, Henry, Daniel and even Eric flew out of his head. She stood at the center of the wide open space where the claw-foot tub had been earlier. He grinned, then turned his attention back to the delicious sight of her swamped in his light tunic. The shirt was long enough that it reached halfway down her thighs.

Chuck threw the shoe to the side and strode towards her. He placed his hands on the small of her back and pulled her flush against him. She gasped, but his mouth had found hers and the kiss stifled her exclamation. Her hands hit his chest softly in mock anger. With one hand still on her butt pushing her against him, he raised his other one and caught her wrists.

"Open your mouth," he breathed against her lips.

His breath was warm, and her lips parted of their own volition. Blair's fisted hands blossomed open and he released her wrists. She laid her palms on his chest. His lips curved when she pulled her lips away and she glared at him, her lips red and bruised. She breathed harshly. "How dare you." Her fingers curled in the green tunic, crumpling it as she pulled him closer. "I am not a prisoner!"

Chuck's gaze warmed. He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. And then, he took her by her waist and whirled them around. She caught her breath and she was forced to grip his shoulders. Blair clutched at him as if he were her lifeline. He pressed his lips against her temple as he quickly turned them around and around until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He allowed himself to fall back onto the cushions and she tumbled along with him. Because of the strength of her grip and his hold on her, she ended up on top of him in a flurry of cloth and curly brown hair.

"You look like a peasant," he said laughingly, gesturing to her tumbled hair and ravaged lips. "A rather sullied peasant."

It was such an insult to her that she stiffly pulled herself so that she knelt above him, sitting astride with her knees on either side of his hips. "A peasant," she spat, ignoring that he had insulted her even more afterwards. He moved his hips under her. Her gaze flew to him. The tunic hiked up to her hips. Her smooth thighs were bare to his sight. She felt him pressing against her, and each time he shifted, lightning sparked through her veins.

His eyes fell to the creamy skin. Chuck raised himself up on his elbow. He reached out a hand and traced a figure of a rose on her skin with his finger. "Be grateful you can look like this. I will give you what you want."

She narrowed her eyes. "You will free me?"

Chuck grinned. "Do you see the fair outside?" Slowly, she nodded. "We are going to the fair." Blair hands flew to her mouth, and Chuck was delighted by her surprise. And then, he frowned when he noticed the moisture in her eyes. "It is but a fair, Blair."

Blair climbed off of him and the bed, and Chuck's heart fell at the loss of contact. Blair took his hand and pulled him up. "It is my first!" she confided. Blair straightened the tunic that she had only just crumpled moments before. Then, she pulled him with her out of his chambers and towards hers. "Sit." She pushed him onto her bed and turned to the folded garments that Serena had brought for her. She shook a dress out of its folding and presented it to Chuck. It was a simple, brown frock that had a black ribbon around the waist.

"We will purchase more acceptable garments for you. There are bolts of cloth from the Continent." Blair flashed him a bright smile, then vanished behind the veiled partition. "Why on earth is this your first fair?"

"You know why," she said, her voice muffled. Chuck could imagine how the dress was caught around her face. He itched to go behind the partition and held him into it. "The red rose is delicate. It does not blossom with the wildflowers. They will tear it apart," Blair said.

She stepped out of the partition and Chuck stood. There was his princess, in an unprepossessing frock that on any other woman would be hideous. Yet it only served to heighten the flawless skin, the innocent sultriness of her face. He gave her a soft smile and walked towards her. Chuck cupped her cheek. "You look perfect."

Blair returned the smile. She glanced down at his proffered arm. She placed her arm in his. "My first fair!" she exclaimed.

He led her out of the chambers and out into the night air. It was the first time Blair had been out as a free woman since she had been captured on route to the court. She let go of his arm and ran out into the night. She turned around and held out a hand to him. "You want to hold my hand?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"What scandal, my lord. The duke and his servant heading to the fair," she teased.

"We will do what we like," he decided. Chuck placed his hand in hers and allowed her to pull her along towards the lit center of the village fair. A small bonfire had been set up, and people from the village huddled around it. "Have you seen a traveling minstrel?"

She raised an eyebrow of her own. "My father was the earl of Richmond," was her only answer.

He scoffed. "Minstrels who travel with royal households pale in comparison to village minstrels." This time, he was the one who led the way. They neared the gathering and people started to turn their heads at the presence of the lord of the manor.

"Lord Bass!" exclaimed an older man with a cane.

"Joseph," Chuck greeted. "How are you?"

The man held out a small package covered in blue cloth. "For you."

Chuck accepted it and thanked the man. When they turned around, Blair saw a small child tottering towards them. The child handed Chuck a pear. Chuck grinned and took the fruit.

"Why do you take gifts from them?" she whispered. "They are poor!"

Chuck waved the attention away and gestured towards the performer. Then, he brought her to a tree a few yards from everyone else. "My people feel better when they can offer me something. Joseph was injured in the first battles. I gave him livelihood." He nodded towards the toddler. "Tamara's mother could ill afford it when her child grew sick. I take care of the village. This is my duty to them." He presented the grassy foot of the tree. "After you, my lady."

"Why thank you, my lord," she responded. With as much courtly grace as she could muster, Blair sank to a comfortable sitting position under the tree, with her legs in front of her. She noticed the people watching them with admiration—even love—in their eyes for the lord of the manor. Chuck sat beside her then leaned back against the trunk of the tree. "Look."

Blair watched closely as the minstrel started relaying his story. It was difficult to hear from the distance, but the animated face of the performer was as much joy to watch. Blair watched with a smile. Chuck, with the same smile, watched Blair. He sat up and laid his arm around her shoulders, then pulled her against his chest. He leaned back against the tree, and she rested against him.

Chuck held up the pear to her mouth. He smirked when she bit into the fruit without a second thought. "Is it good?"

She nodded. "Sweet."

Chuck leaned over her and turned her face to him. He slowly traced her moist lips with his tongue. Blair watched, entranced, as he bit a chunk of the pear and held it between his lips. Her eyes flickered to the succulent piece of fruit he teased her with. He did not need to say anything. His look was invitation enough. Blair drew herself up and captured the fruit. "You learn quickly," he said.

Blair took the fruit in her hand and held it up to her lips, then sucked at the hard flesh until her lips were near dripping with the juice. Proudly, she presented her lips to him. Chuck grinned and dipped his head to savor her lips.

After the minstrel, a juggler took his place. By then, Blair Waldorf no longer watched the performance. With her cheek pillowed against his chest, she turned her gaze towards the starlit sky. She slapped his chest, and Chuck started. "What?"

She pointed at the sky. "A falling star!"

He had seen falling stars. He had seen many through the lonely nights in Tuscany when he served Richard. "Are there no falling stars in Calais?"

"Inside the fine chambers of the Richmond's castles?" She laid a finger on her lips. "Wait. I need to wish." Blair closed her eyes.

When she opened them, he looked at her in confusion. "Tell me what life was like, Blair, as a princess in exile."

"It was fine," she told him softly. "The servants were kind to me. I never felt like I was not Margaret's daughter. And Harry—he adored me."

"Yet you have never been to a fair."

She craned her neck so she could meet his eyes even as she lay against him. "I have not done many things, your grace. It does not make me less than anyone." She drew a deep breath. "I envy you."

"Everyone in this village loves you, I think. I see the way they look at us, and they love you."

"As those in the Richmond lands loved you," he said.

"You warrant their love because of all that you do," she said. "I, on the other hand, was born." Blair smiled tightly. "But I thank you for tonight. I shall remember this always. All my life I had a wonderful shelter I could not leave."

And he had barricaded her in without so much as a warning. "I'm sorry," he said gruffly. "I will never again lock you in a chamber."

"You will free me?"

He sighed, then helped her sit up. Chuck held her gaze and he told her, "I cannot, Blair. You are my only hope to bring Henry to me."

Her eyes grew wide with horror. "And what do you plan to do, Chuck?"

"I will do to him what he has done to my father."

"It was war!" she cried out. "Chuck, no."

He shook his head. "Do not fret, princess," she said softly. "Your brother is king. He will bring an army and mayhap annihilate me."

Blair grasped his hand and pressed it to her chest. "He will. You know he will," she said urgently. "So please do not invite him."

"Why?" he said, his eyes falling to her lips.

"Why?"

"Why should I not draw Henry to me—for a final battle? I am prepared, Blair—be it he or I who will fall." She shook her head, and he noticed the tear rolling down her cheeks. He cupped her chin, then tipped her face up. "Tell me."

"Because you are sure to lose," she said.

He gave her a sad smile. "I was prepared to die when I first saw how many of my men had fallen. That is not enough."

"Because I cannot lose you."

"Why, Blair?"

She closed her eyes. "What else do you want?"

"The real reason why you would not have Henry's forces bearing down on Norfolk. Three words," he hinted. "Eight letters."

"I—" she breathed. Blair noted the flicker of triumph in his face. First, her father had died. And then, her mother had abandoned her. Henry had left her in Calais over and over again to pursue his crown. She loved only three people in her life. Those words were cursed. "I do not wish to say them." Blair pulled herself up to her feet. She made her way towards the small stalls.

"Then we await the king." He watched her from under hooded lids. Chuck rose and fell into step beside her. He took her hand and pulled her to him. Chuck cupped her face with both hands. "Just because you cannot say them does not mean they are not true." He pulled her against him and pressed a kiss on her forehead.

"Your grace!" Chuck hid his groan and turned to the new arrival. The man, garbed in a farmer's attire, was unfamiliar to Chuck. The man held two mugs to them. "From my very own farms on your soil."

Chuck accepted the watered wine mugs and handed one to Blair. "Thank you, my friend." Chuck sipped at his drink, then raised his mug in cheers.

Blair had placed her mug down. She continued towards the cloth stalls. They were halfway through the selection when Chuck stumbled beside her. She looped her arm around his waist, but when he stumbled, his weight was so heavy that her own knees buckled. "Chuck!" she cried out. Blair lifted him up, and she felt like her shoulder would be dislocated.

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

AN: If you are reading All About Serena, I apologize for the delay in the next part. My head is filled with this story right now and so I have not had the chance to sit down and write out AAS. And now, back to Yesterday's Roses.

Part 7

"It is done."

Nathaniel nodded and gave a coin to the farmer. Behind him, Serena's shrieks of anger were muffled by the strip of cloth that he had tied around her mouth. When she had ventured into the shadows of the fair, she had not realized that she would stumble upon a plot so vile. When he had turned around and recognized her, she had not expected that he would drag her back to his camp screaming bloody hell. Serena had never once expected that she would hear Nathaniel Archibald give instructions for Chuck's assassination.

He turned and looked at her sadly. "It had to be done," he said.

Serena's eyes widened as she struggled from the ground she had been sitting on. A hundred curses flew through her brain. Nathaniel Archibald took her hand and squeezed it. For so long she had dreamed of him, fantasized like any other girl who had lain eyes of the beauty that was Nathaniel Archibald. The first time he held her hand like this, the first time he leaned so close—all were in her dreams. Yet not once did she suspect they would happen when she was so full of hate and fear.

"Someday, when England is at peace, you will understand, Serena." He pulled the gag down to hand around her neck like a necklace.

"You killed my brother!" she accused.

His lips thinned. "I do not savor taking a man's life. But the choice was between him and this kingdom, I chose and always will choose England."

In tears, in disbelief, she asked, "What did Chuck ever do to deserve this?"

He moved back as he regarded her. "You do not know how your brother has been scheming to destroy this peace we have?"

There was no peace, Serena wanted to say. In the short while since Henry had taken the throne, the king had gone on a rampage of arrests, exiles and punishments. The Yorkists trembled in their lands and the Lancastrians slowly worked their way from under their rocks. Skirmishes upon skirmishes left the land bloodied, and ravaged towns stank of death and madness. "All my brother had ever done was care for his people."

Nathaniel sighed. "Your brother has taken it upon himself to hold the fate of our kingdom in his hands."

"Even if he does not take Henry for his king," Serena exclaimed, "there is no call for you to murder him!"

"As long as he holds Blair Waldorf captive, Serena, no rest will come to the people of Norfolk," Nathaniel emphasized.

Serena's face clouded with confusion. "Blair?" she whispered. "This is about Blair?"

"Aye," Nathaniel informed her. "Chuck Bass first threw down the gauntlet against the king by taking the princess."

Serena drew a sharp breath, and knew no retort that would defend his brother against such accusation. Blair was the reason for Nathaniel to calculatingly murder Chuck, for the Norfolk people to earn the king's wrath? If her brother had taken a princess of the realm and forced her into servitude, then by law he was a traitor. She searched for a way to salvage her world. "Then take her!"

"I will take her," Nathaniel's voice rumbled. "The princess must be terrified to be on hostile ground. As soon as Norfolk starts mourning. Bass is sure to be dead come morning."

All she could muster was to shut her eyes and cry, "Then let me care for him. Return me and I will care for him."

He took her hand and brushed a kiss against the back of it. Serena sniffled. "Your pleas tear my heart," he admitted. "But the potion was potent. You will do nothing but wait near his dying bed."

"Then allow me that!" she parried.

Nathaniel shook his head. "We are yet too close to Norfolk. If I let you go, you can let loose your brother's knights on us." He paused. "Serena, I abhor bloodshed."

"You had my brother poisoned at a village fair!" she screeched.

Curiously, he never returned the passion of her argument. He was calm, soothing even at times. Serena's eyes fell to his fingers as he traced circular patterns on the back of her hand. "To save the land. The good of many versus the desires of one," he told her. "You have the capability to understand, Serena, yet you allow your heart to cloud your judgment."

"You truly believe in all this," she realized.

"I make the unpopular choices."

"You are a coward," she returned. "You surrendered your birthright because you were afraid of war."

"And it was a good choice," he said firmly. "None of my knights fell in battle. I could have desired the throne and sacrificed my men," Nathaniel said. "But it would be selfish, uninspired."

"Leave." Serena shook her head. "Spout off your nonsense to one whose family you did not just kill."

"Princess Blair did not deserve what your brother did."

"When I left, Princess Blair was alive and well, installed in quarters as fine as mine, eager to purchase fine cloths for new garments," Serena told Nathaniel. She ignored all that she had learned from the princess—of her brother's treatment, of sleeping upon the cold floor, of her fantastic and ultimately horrid effort to escape. This time, her aim was to make it known to Nathaniel how he had no call to do as he did. "He was not unkind. Chuck did not deserve a cowardly death by a poisoned brew," she said bitterly, disgusted at the way his brother would fall. "You have insulted him. His people loved him, and he was ever Richard's most faithful. He deserved at least a hero's death."

"In battle—with his body mangled and his head bloody?" She nodded curtly, though the very mention tore at her. "Executed—by burning or by the axe?"

"Better than poison creeping inside him and killing him in his sleep."

And it was the very thing that burned inside Chuck Bass' body. Blair Waldorf knew it at once when she saw the pallor of his face. His body fell heavily on the ground, and around them the people who saw their lord fall came to his immediate aid. "Lord Charles!" cried out one.

And then Blair felt the bodies converge around her. She held tight onto Chuck's hand.

"To the castle."

Frantically, she reached to the mug that Chuck had dropped, and prayed there was enough of it inside. Blair threw a look of panic at the man. Yet she only saw the concern evident on his face, and allowed them to take Chuck up by his arms. With the duke's arms upon their shoulders, two of the village residents dragged the duke back up to the manor. Blair picked up her skirt and hurried after them.

She climbed up the steps after them, anxious to see to the duke. Blair turned her head and saw the wide open doors once again. By the castle gates, not far off, she saw untethered horses drinking from a trough. With everyone aflutter over the duke, how easy it was to slip off unnoticed and ride as hard as she could. Henry had taken the land, and she was certain that the next keep would have pledged fealty to the Tudor king.

"My lady, point us to his chambers."

Blair closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and turned back to the men. "Follow me," she said urgently, and made their way to Chuck's bed. At the back of her head she heard the large doors shut.

When the gypsy was called, Blair was the only one who was left in the chambers. Sir Daniel entered the room with Vanessa. Blair vaguely recalled the gypsy from when she was shortly ill with fever. The gypsy took off her shawl and allowed it to fall, and Sir Daniel caught the sheer cloth in his hands, then placed it upon the foot of the bad. Blair pleaded with Vanessa, "Heal him."

Vanessa stepped forward to the bed and bent down, then reached forward to look under the duke's eyes. She placed a hand on his chest, then swiped at his forehead. "What was it he imbibed?"

Blair blinked tearfully. "We were given a brew. I fear it was poisoned."

Sir Daniel's dark gaze turned to her. "And how is it that you standing, princess?"

Blair looked up at Sir Daniel in shock. He knew. She did not know when he found out, but he knew. And now, with Chuck supine and helpless, so was she. There was no one to defend her now should Sir Daniel decided on her fate. "I drunk none," she admitted.

Sir Daniel's lips curved thinly. "You drunk none," he repeated. "Did you poison him?"

"No!" Blair exclaimed. She looked towards Chuck.

"He is poisoned," Vanessa confirmed. "I cannot make an antidote unless I know what it was." Blair unwrapped the mug and gave it to the gypsy. Vanessa took it and sniffed at the inside, then dipped her finger to touch the bottom. She studied the small moist powder there. The skin it had touched seemed to sting, as it reddened and puckered. Vanessa hissed, then wiped her hand on her dress. "It is strong enough to fell a horse."

Sir Daniel, in a move so quick that Blair did not see it til the tip of his sword was pressed against her neck, pronounced slowly, "Murderess."

Blair held her head still, careful not to move too much. She sucked in her breath when the sharp edge nicked her skin. She felt a drop of blood trail down her neck.

"I applaud your scheming," Sir Daniel said. "Such a short while alone together and you have just about succeeded what your brother cannot. Trust a woman to choose poison over a fair battle."

Her gaze moved from Sir Daniel, who now held her life at the tip of his weapon, and towards Vanessa, who now tipped a glass of water into Chuck's lips. The water dribbled down his chin.

"I will see to your own execution," Sir Daniel informed Blair. "Out in the courtyard where the people can view their duke's killer."

"Daniel, for heaven's sake, the duke is yet alive," Vanessa snapped. "Stop that torture and help me. I need these—" She rattled off plants and roots for him to find. "Lady Blair—"

"No," Sir Daniel decided. "She will not stay here. I cannot allow her near the lord, not when he is helpless enough to be suffocated with a pillow. It would be remiss, especially when the first time she was able, he turns up like this."

Blair stuck up her chin, and felt the cut of his sword go deeper. "I did not poison him!" she repeated. She met Daniel's eyes now, because he knew more than all the knights in Norfolk how often she had been alone with the duke, had once seen her with Chuck.

In response, the knight lowered his sword. Blair's hand went to the bleeding wound. Sir Daniel grasped her by her upper arm, then pulled her to him. She gasped at the violence of the action, so different from how Chuck had always pulled her close "You may fool others with innocent eyes," the knight told her. "But I see through you."

When he pulled her towards the door, Blair held her feet. "I cannot hurt him with Vanessa in the room," she protested.

"Aye. Daniel, let her stay," Vanessa addressed lover.

"I will not have you hurt her too."

Blair gritted her teeth against the bruising grip on her arm. When he tossed her upon her bed, Blair turned to glare at him. "I did not poison him!" she repeated.

Sir Daniel shook his head. "You almost had me fooled." He slammed the door behind him.

When she was left alone, Blair felt the tears rising. She fell back on her bed and felt the sob rise from her gut to rest in her chest. She opened her mouth in an effort to breath. She choked as her throat constricted. What was happening to her? Was she poisoned as well? She could not breathe, and her throat closed in on itself. If she died here now, no one would care or shed a tear for her. Her own tears soaked the cushion under her cheek.

He had only just promised that she would never be a prisoner, that she would not be locked within four walls. And now he was going to die and her fate left in the hands of a man who so clearly despised her from the beginning, even before he knew who she was.

"My lady."

Blair raised her head and blinked up at the gypsy as Vanessa sat at the edge of the bed. She had not even heard the door open. She sat up on the bed and grabbed the other woman's hand. "Is it Chuck?"

Vanessa shook her head, and uncapped the jar she had brought with her. She handed Blair a wet cloth. "Wipe the blood off," she nodded towards Blair's neck.

Blair slowly did as she was told. "You left the duke alone?" she asked in a commanding voice.

"I can do nothing more. I am waiting for some leaves to toast for powder." Vanessa dipped her fingers into the jar and placed some of the cool balm on the cut. "I am sorry for Daniel," she said softly. "I am sorry for this."

Blair hissed at the stinging sensation. "You have done nothing to be sorry for."

The gypsy smiled sadly. "Sir Daniel had always been wary of women. Ever since his mother abandoned him for a Lancastrian house." Vanessa took of the balm and placed it around the wound. "And he knows I have no home. I will go where the wind blows me."

The princess swallowed heavily, then with effort said, "I care not of Sir Daniel's pain. He had no right to lock me here. He spilled Tudor blood."

"My lady—"

"I want to see the duke." It was apparent to her that the gypsy knew what it meant to displease the princess so. Blair felt for her, as it seemed she was willing to find out all she could to save Sir Daniel should it come to the time when Blair rose from the muck.

Vanessa capped the jar and placed it aside. She bit her lower lip. "I pray you will not take his actions against him, my lady."

Blair's eyes narrowed as, like a predator, she spotted her prey. In her most regal voice, she said, "I may be deemed to forgive I receive something in return."

"Name it," Vanessa said breathlessly.

"Take me to the duke." Her lips curved in anticipation. The gypsy would do all that she could to satisfy her.

Vanessa stood from the bed and glanced towards the door. And then, she nodded. "I need to send Sir Daniel away. I will leave the door open and when you hear three rapid knocks on the door, the way is free."

"Good," Blair said. "That pleases me." Vanessa sighed in relief.

And so she waited, sitting in trepidation, with her hands folded before her. The knock came as the gypsy had promised. Blair rose from the bed and pulled the door open. It swung freely, and her heart stopped. She made her way to the duke's chambers. With a deep, calming breath, she pushed the door open and stopped still at the foot of the bed.

"He will not take it," Vanessa said tearfully.

Blair looked at the scene in confusion. The dark blue liquid trickled from the side of his mouth. From the few hours that had passed since she had seen him last, Chuck had grown to look more sallow, his cheeks sunken and the skin surrounding his eyes dry and graying.

"What do you mean?" Blair demanded. Blood pumped in her veins as she strode towards the gypsy's side. "You have the antidote. Give it to him."

Vanessa held up the small vial. "This is all that we have. Most of what we have given him have spilled. He is too insensible to swallow."

"Show me," Blair commanded.

The gypsy tipped the contents of the vial into a glass of water. Blair held Chuck up so Vanessa could pour it down his lips. And just as the gypsy said, the blue water dribbled down his chin. The door opened and in walked Sir Daniel.

"What is she doing here?"

Blair held up a finger in warning. "Stop. There is no time for this," she snapped. "Hold him up."

Sir Daniel snapped into action and held up the duke's form. Blair blinked back her tears as she took a spoon and tried to feed Chuck the antidote in that way. When the liquid still fell uselessly to his shirt, Blair cupped his chin.

"Careful, my lady," Vanessa cautioned. "The potion is so potent even from your skin it can work into your body. It is as powerful as the poison, and with it alone, it is poison in itself."

Blair turned her somber eyes at the gypsy. "Try it again." She did not move her hand away.

Vanessa tipped the glass into Chuck's mouth, and the liquid merely spilled onto Blair's hand as she held his mouth open.

"It's useless!" Vanessa cried.

Sir Daniel rose. "So this is it?" he asked his lover.

Vanessa nodded. "He will be dead by morning."

Blair saw the emotion that warren in the knight's eyes, and remembered that even as Sir Daniel treated her so harshly, the knight had been loyal to the duke. Sir Daniel straightened and said, "We have found out that Lady Serena has gone missing. I will gather the knights and we will search for her." He cleared his throat as he glanced at Chuck. "This is what the duke would have us to."

Vanessa nodded. The knight left and Blair wiped the tears from her cheeks. She looked down at Chuck, then whispered, "Will you give me time alone with the duke?"

The gypsy nodded. "Of course, princess."

Blair waited until the gypsy had left, and then turned back to the duke. She reached down and pulled off the tunic that he wore, because it was messy and wet. She walked to the chest and selected a white tunic and made her way back to Chuck. Carefully, she slipped the white tunic over his head and hefted his dead weight to the side as she moved his pillows. And then, she lay him back down.

Only today had she witnessed such love and loyalty from people towards their lord. He had taken care of his village, while she had been born to believe that she deserved love. Without having done anything for others, she had expected loyalty to come to her. She wondered what her mug contained, if the same poisoned lined its insides.

She took the glass that contained his medicine, and said, "Come, Bass. It is your favorite port wine imported form Portugal." His lips did not open. She sniffled. Blair closed her eyes and laid her lips on his. And it was then that she felt it, a slight change, a minor movement it did not count. But his lips, she swore, moved over hers. Blair gasped and pulled away. When she placed another kiss on his lips, it could not be doubted.

Blair looked down at the glass in her hand. Then, she tipped the liquid to cover her lips. When she kissed him, his lips moved over hers. She sank against him gratefully. Blair took the liquid in her mouth and bent to lay a kiss on him. When his lips opened, she allowed the potion to trickle into his mouth. When he choked, she stopped. And then, she allowed the liquid to pour into his mouth. It was long, and she ensured her breathing would take the same pattern as his as she ebbed and flowed the movement of the antidote.

She felt the potion working its way into her veins. Yet still she did the same over and over. Blair tipped the last of the liquid into her mouth, then covered his lips with hers. Her tongue glided against his, and now he eagerly took the liquid. Finally, when it was done, and she trembled with the effects of the potion, Blair lifted the glass to put it back. And then, as if in a dream, she watched as her hand lost its grip on the glass and it fell down to the sheets beside him. Blair swallowed and pulled herself up, but instead felt herself falling.

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

AN: GG is seriously killing me. Just saw the CB stuff in O Brother... *sigh* They are just dumping fic ideas on me like crazy... Looks like it's going to be a fic-filled hiatus.

Part 8

His head was pounding when he tried to force his eyes open. His eyes opened into mere slits. His limbs were heavy. He felt a weight pressing him down on the bed. Chuck Bass raised his head the brown head of hair spilled over his tunic on down onto the sheets, Blair Waldorf sleeping on his chest. Despite the dead languor of his arm, he raised a hand and placed it on her back.

"Princess, wake up."

Chuck remembered the faint voice in his head, in that dark muddled dream he had, calling him, urging him to rise. The last moments he remembered from the night before. The wine—he tried to pull himself up, then fell heavily back. It was poisoned. He knew it the moment he turned to Blair that night, seeing her with her eyes twinkling as he gave her the first experience she had walking among village people, moving underneath the open sky. It had been somewhat like the night he dove into the icy lake to retrieve her, as if his view was shaded by water.

Panic had set in, and his first thought was to clutch at her arm. It had been unplanned, almost instinctive, but he knew that if he fell then, he needed to know she was right by him.

She did not stir. Panic flooded his veins. He had been certain she did not drink the wine. "Blair," he repeated, shaking her back more insistently. He pulled himself up by his elbow, then cupped her face. He slapped her cheek softly, then sharply. "Blair!"

With all his strength, he sat up on the bed and moved her so that she was lying on her back across his thighs. Chuck grew concerned at the grayish tint to her flawless complexion. When the door swung open, he threw a helpless look at the new arrival. If anyone would know what to do, it was the gypsy.

"She's not breathing," he said, his voice raspy from lack of use.

Vanessa's eyes widened at the unexpected sight. She hurried towards the bed and bent over Blair's unconscious form. She threw a glance to the side of the bed and noticed the empty glass. Sir Eric, who she had called for his goodbye, so certain had she been that they would arrive to find the duke dead or dying, stopped behind her and gripped firmly his brother's shoulder.

"Chuck, you're alive."

Chuck looked on in horror as Vanessa's fingers vanished under Blair's hair, to rest on the pulse point under the princess' ear. "What happened?" Chuck asked softly.

Vanessa bit her lip, then closed her eyes. She raised her finger in a request for silence. And then, she breathed in relief. "There is a pulse. But there is no breath."

At that, he shrugged off Eric's hand, then opened Blair's mouth. He breathed into her, then coughed and shut his eyes.

"You are too weak, my lord. You should be recovering yet." Eric glanced at his brother, then at the gypsy. Vanessa muttered, "I should have known." Chuck drew an audible breath, then forced air into her once more.

"What should you have known?" Eric demanded.

Chuck continued breathing for her, until she drew a sharp breath and remained breathing. He gasped, catching his breath as he watched her breasts rise and fall. He reached out to touch the blue tinge of her lips, that rubbed off onto his finger.

"It is the antidote, your grace," Vanessa said, gesturing at the mark on his finger. "You would drink none."

He had taught her only the night before to feed off his lips, and he had suckled the flavor of the pear from her lips. She had used his lesson in passion against herself. "Is she poisoned?"

"The antidote is potent, and is poison in itself. It is a miracle that you are even alive." Vanessa moved to pull Blair off of Chuck's thighs, but Chuck held onto the princess' hand. "My lord, allow me to help her."

"Let us take her, Chuck," Eric urged. "You must rest."

"No," he said. "She saved my life. Tell me what to do."

"You are sorely weakened by the poison, Chuck," Eric reminded his brother.

Vanessa watched the interaction as she lifted Blair's head to tip a glass of water to her lips. Thankfully, the princess was more compliant than the duke when unconscious. Though some of the water still spilled, Blair's lips parted and she saw the movement of her throat as she swallowed. She knew, from Sir Eric's stance, that he had decided not tell the duke about Serena's disappearance.

Chuck shook his head. He pulled himself up, then rolled off the bed. He clutched tightly at the bed frame. "My lord!" Vanessa protested.

He held up a hand to silence her. "Tell me what to do," he repeated, and this time, it was an order.

Vanessa glanced at Sir Eric, who nodded his consent. Vanessa said, "I will lay her down on the bed, give her water. The antidote is working through her body and will spend her energy."

"Give her the poison, like you gave me the antidote for the poison. Surely the two will counteract in the same manner," Chuck suggested.

"It will kill her," Vanessa said with certainty. "It is a miracle you are standing now."

Chuck nodded. He was still so weak, and he doubted he could even lift a sword. And she was so much more fragile.

"Chuck," Eric started, "you must really rest. Norfolk needs you well. The village saw you fall. You know what that does to your people."

"And I shall be well," Chuck snapped at his brother. "Give me until tomorrow. I shall recover and stand before them." He turned to Eric. "Tell the people their lord is well, and to gather in the square on the morrow."

Eric nodded, then left the room. Chuck turned back to the gypsy, who had placed Blair at the center of his bed. "We can only wait," she told the duke. "I do not wish to give her any other potion lest her body suffer more."

And he saw the way the princess twitched and trembled. "Water," he said. "That is all we give her."

"Aye." Vanessa took two folded blankets and placed it on the foot of the bed. "She will in turn be hot and cold. And there will be pain. It would have been the same for you without the antidote. Your body was strong, my lord, and could take the toxins fighting in your blood."

He nodded, and then frowned. Chuck reached out and pushed Blair's hair away, then saw the wound on her neck. "What is this?"

Vanessa held her breath. "My lord, it is a shallow cut."

Chuck turned to the gypsy, and concluded correctly based on Vanessa's hesitation. "Sir Daniel."

"My lord, he was concerned for you."

"I want to see him."

Vanessa took a deep breath, the nodded. She left the chambers. Sir Daniel, with some of Chuck's knights, had gone to search for Lady Serena. She would be there waiting when Daniel returned, and warn him beforehand. Sir Daniel may not think it would matter so, but Vanessa was certain, especially after seeing the duke's concern for the princess, that it was one thing that the duke would not allow to pass.

Inside the duke's chambers, Chuck fell heavily back down on the bed. He had held himself up in the presence of the gypsy and his brother, but his entire body was still feeble, his muscles mere fluid. He closed his eyes and willed his strength to return. Beside him, he heard the soft moan. When he turned and looked at Blair, he saw the pain on her face as her body started to tremble. He forced his body to turn on his side, then allowed his arm to encircle her waist. Her body twisted and a cry escaped her lips.

He tightened his arm around her so that she would not throw herself off the bed. Her body wracked with pain. Chuck gritted his teeth as Blair's arms jarred him as her elbow hit his stomach. "Easy," he murmured. "Easy, princess."

And she was crying in her sleep. Her body trembled, and Chuck pulled her tightly against him. He laid one leg over hers so that she would not hurt herself. "It will pass," his voice rumbled soothingly.

It took hours for the potion to spend itself, and he pitied her body as she thrashed about in pain. In various counts he reached for the water and helped her drink, until he felt the heat coming off of her in waves. She writhed in discomfort at the heat. He knew then what the water was for, as she sweated profusely through the dress. Straining with effort, he pulled her up to a sitting position and laid her against his chest. Chuck breathed harshly at the exhaustion the labor took on his still recovering body. He pulled off the dress from her, and her shift, until she was naked against him, her skin moist and clammy.

He reached behind her and pulled the now sweaty sheets off the bed.

Chuck shook the folded blanket open and threw it haphazardly on the bed to serve as bed cover. Then, he laid her carefully down. She rolled to her side.

He breathed harshly as he looked down at her, hoping that was going to make her at least more comfortable. Chuck reached for the far of water and poured some into the glass, and downed it himself.

When he laid down beside her, careful to keep his distance because body warmth was the fastest way to give body heat, and body heat was exactly what she did not need then. His own exhausted body sank into sleep.

He woke moments later at the gasping sound, the movement of the bed. He woke to find her facing her in her nakedness, her eyes glassy, her teeth chattering. She reached out a hand to cup his cheek.

"You're alive," she whispered.

His lips curved. "I am a man."

The smile vanished when she did not respond scathingly, as he had expected. His eyes fell to her trembling lips. "It's so cold, my lord. Why not light the fire?"

He looked towards the fire that burned brightly in the corner. "One moment," he told her. She curled into a ball, and Chuck took another blanket. She shivered when it settled against her skin. Chuck pulled himself up and with unsteady legs, he pulled the chamber door open. He swallowed, then saw the guard installed outside his door. He needed to remember to tell Eric that he had decided well.

"Have a servant bring buckets of hot water, enough to fill a tub halfway, then buckets of warm water for the rest."

Four servants came, and within the hour, the claw-footed tub stood in front of the fire filled with water. Chuck waved them away, careful all the time that Blair was completely covered. When they were alone, he bent to take her up in his arms. Where he could so easily take her weight before, the effort was extreme on his body now. Chuck padded barefoot towards the tub, then stepped into the water. He took a deep breath, then settled into the water so he could hold her trembling form without her sliding underneath.

He waited until the shivering stopped, and she rested peacefully against him. Chuck finally breathed in relief, and laid his head back.

It was not a long moment of peace. Chuck held her as, when her body recovered, she pulled herself to the side of the tub and heaved. Chuck placed a hand on her back as she heaved the contents of her stomach, which was now merely a sickening fluid. She sobbed as she gripped the tub, and emptied her stomach.

"Your body is ridding itself of the poison. Do not fight it."

Blair finally hung limply against the side of the tub, too weak from the effort and the pain. He gathered her back against his body and she lay limply on him. He pressed his lips on her sweaty temple. His eyes closed. "You could have fled," he said softly. "Why?"

The soft tremor that ran through her now out of exhaustion seemed to take its toll. Her eyes fluttered closed once more. "You were dying."

"Was that not what you continually wished I would do?" he said, his voice lightly teasing.

It had been. From the moment she woke after the abduction, she imagined what it would be if Henry were to execute him. She pressed her cheek against his wet tunic, hearing the heartbeat in his chest. "If you had died, what happens to your people? We both know they will be shattered."

His eyebrows furrowed, that she could think of mourning if he perished, but did not think of it for her demise. "Your brother—"

"Loves me. Completely," she answered. "I have no doubt. But in my world, I serve no purpose other than for barter."

His finger buried in her hair, and he remembered his one desire for keeping her. She was right. It was why she existed. Even now Nathaniel plotted to save her to plead the king for her hand afterwards. Marriage to the princess would mean protection for the Archibald house, as long as the Tudors reigned. He himself had kept the princess hostage in exchange for the opportunity to battle Henry. He had played with the possibility of seducing her, from the beginning, because it would be a slap to the usurper, to have his only sister sullied by Norfolk.

Yet from the first, she had enthralled him, and his obsession to her grew each day. As simple as a smile, or an insult from her, and the memory hung over his head for hours after.

"You are more than trade goods, princess. Surely you know it."

She raised her head, then met his eyes. For the first time that night, he considered the fact that she was naked. All through the night as he fought to keep her comfortable and alive, it had not registered in his brain. Now, she sat between his legs, wet and dripping. Chuck shifted uncomfortably in the water. She moistened her lips. She still looked ill, but he responded to her the way he could respond to no other woman. His cursed manhood seemed to have a taste for the forbidden.

Chuck hastily unbuttoned his tunic, then covered her with it. It had been little help as the wet cotton clung to her form.

She was oblivious to her nakedness. "I want to stay here," she said softly.

And then, unexpectedly, his breath hitched in his throat. "Do you know what you are asking?"

She nodded. "I have seen your world, and you are conceited, irrational and obstinate." Even then, his lips curved fondly. "But since your knights took me, I have met and spoken to more people than I had known in my lifetime."

He did not know why it was that he tried to refuse, when they both knew he would never free her. "There will be dozens of fascinating characters in court. And there will all bow down to you."

"They will love me?" she asked softly.

"Aye. Without a doubt."

She nodded. "They will love me for my birth and nothing more." Blair slowly buttoned the tunic he had wrapped her in. As she did, her breasts stood proudly up. She stood, and water dripped from the cloth down her thighs. Chuck reached for her, because he knew, from his experience, that she would fall. When she did, she fell against him, and his arms wrapped around her. She gasped, and she raised her face to him. "I am tired of it," she confessed.

"Of love?"

"Love when I clearly have done nothing to deserve it. That is not love." Blair drew a deep breath.

The brilliance in her eyes reminded him what he had taunted her with when they first met. Untouched, ignorant of the ways of men. And now, she admitted, she knew nothing of the real world.

"I have a feeling that here, my lord, whatever I will have, I would deserve." Blair felt him against her leg, and knew without a doubt that even ill, his body responded to her. It gave her triumph, a measure of success. "Give me a chance. Chuck," she said, "let me live." Blair raised her wet hand and laid it against his cheek. She leaned close to him, and gingerly laid her lips against his.

He answered by taking her lips in his and closing his eyes to savor the kiss. And then, ever so reluctantly, he drew away. He saw her eyes still closed. "I'd rather wait," he said.

She opened her tearful eyes. "If tonight has proven anything, my lord, it is that life is too short to waste on waiting."

He shook his head, then stood from the tub. This time, he was more confident in his strength. He took her up in his arms, and they dripped water onto the floor. "We're inevitable, Waldorf," he vowed.

No body had ever promised her anything before. Perhaps it was because they knew they could not keep it, or mayhap it was because no one would track it. But his promise, said in their solitude, was enough to keep a flame in her heart burning. He was the enemy, and he would destroy the world she knew. But the promise rang clear and true in her heart, and she held fast.

_Inevitable._

tbc


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9

It was very probable, he thought, that in his old age he would recall those short hours in his bedchamber with Princess Blair. Whether or not she became part of his future, and to him it was no longer a question, the story of the princess who sailed from France to be captured by his men, and who subsequently captured his own regard, would stay would him forever. He shook his head. If Serena finds out, and knowing her she likely would the moment she next saw him with Blair, she would hire village women to create tapestries about it to hang on the cold castle walls and pronounce it as epic.

That would not be such a wretched idea. Blair wanted to be part of something more, and he wondered how delighted she would be to be immortalized in such manner, embedded into the very fiber of his home, sewn tightly into his life.

They lay abed, discarding the wet garments and huddled under the thick blankets. His hand idly traced patterns on the moist skin of the arm she had thrown over his torso.

"I had never thought this could come to pass," he said idly.

"Hmmm," she murmured in agreement. Blair squirmed on the bed until she could lay her head on his chest.

Chuck smiled as he looked down at the brown hair that splayed on him. He pushed away the heavy water-sodden locks that lay around her shoulders to expose the skin. His gaze flickered upon spying again the wound. "Never again," he vowed as he traced the cut.

She shuddered, then tightened her hold on him. "He loves you, my lord."

"Then he will take care not to harm my lady." And he knew he had pleased her with his words when she clung to him. "From now on, you will tell me if you are harmed or disrespected in any way, by any of my knights, by any in this household, and I swear to you it will not go unpunished."

And they slept like so, wrapped in each other and went from the bath. In the morning, the knocking on the door woke him. The door opened and his brother entered. Chuck threw the blankets off his body and disentangled himself. Eric turned to look at Blair as she slept, and Chuck pulled the blankets up to under her chin.

Eric took clothes from the chest at the foot of Chuck's bed and threw them to him.

"Chuck," Eric said grimly, "news has come of Henry's army making his way to Norfolk."

Chuck set his jaw, then glanced at the princess still sleeping in his bed. He put on the clothes and pulled Eric to the far end of the room, because this Blair did not need to hear. "Where is Daniel?"

It was with uncertainty that Eric shifted on his feet. "He is out with many of our best men, scouring the countryside for Serena."

"Serena," Chuck parroted with a menacing warning.

"Serena was abducted the night you fell."

"And I was not told that my only sister had gone missing?"

"Chuck, you have trusted Sir Daniel with your life. He will bring her back. You were ill, near death."

Chuck strode to the chest and took out his chain mail. "And now we face Henry with half of our men."

"He brings his army full force, Chuck. Word is that he is looking for his own sister." Eric shook his head. "I did not know he had a sister. And I do not have knowledge why he would come bearing down on Norfolk." And then, Eric followed his brother's gaze. His eyes widened. "Chuck? Tell me it is not true!"

The duke saw the panic in his brother's face. "It is." The terror sank on Eric like a curse, and Chuck recognized the very moment his brother remembered that it was he who took Blair from her party. "But I will allow no harm to befall you."

"He shall behead me. It will be my end," Eric muttered.

Eric looked back at Blair, who now stirred in bed and rose to sit. He turned his gaze away when as she sat up, the blanket fell around her waist. Blair pulled it back up to her chest. "Chuck," she said. "What is the matter?"

It was Eric who answered, with a trace of accusation. "The king marches to Norfolk with a battalion. We shall all die."

Blair's hand flew to her chest. "No!" she exclaimed. "Chuck, I do not wish to go."

Eric's expression grew more confused. "What do you mean?"

Chuck's jaw tightened. This was why he had kept Blair. This was what he had waited for. It all started with his desire to come close enough to Henry to battle him and fell the king. He could send for his cousins now, the lords of the shamed Yorkist houses. Finally, they would have the chance to kill the king.

Instead, he assured Blair, "You will do nothing you do not wish to do." She had saved his life, and it was the least he could do in return. Revenge aside, to be reserved for another time. It was best that most of his men were gone. Henry would see that Chuck does not mean to fight him. When he took on Henry, he would have his full army, and leave no chance to fall and to leave the princess. "I will meet Henry on the road. It is best if he does not make it to the village."

How swiftly plans changed, when you had something to live for.

Chuck gathered his loyal men, and they convened in front of the keep, still within the castle walls. When he walked to the top of the stone steps, and the men gathered, so did the village. Beside him, draped in one of Serena's most regal, Blair stood. Chuck said, "This day had been coming, threatening for a long time," he said to the waiting men. "We are at a disadvantage, with many of our men in search of the Lady Serena. I shall venture forth with few of you, and show the king that we do not wish for war, to broker an arrangement that will be acceptable to him. Men, I will leave you in Norfolk, and leave you the more important task of ensuring that our people are safe should I fail."

Blair's eyes scanned the people who gathered, and noticed the women who clutched at each other in fear, the men whose eyes moistened at their beloved duke's words. They had feared for his life, she remembered, when they thought of him poisoned and dying. Now, as Chuck vowed to his people that he would be first in the line to encounter the usurper king, his village thought first of his safety.

"You cannot meet them with less than a dozen men!"

Chuck looked at the crowd, but could not determine who spoke. And so he addressed all. "I will meet them with a half dozen. The more men are left within these walls, the more you will have a chance for defense should I fall." Blair's hand rested on his arm. Chuck covered her hand with his. "I will trust each of you with my life." And it was the reason that he had been poisoned. They all knew. "Even more, I will trust you to defend my people," he said to the men who would be left behind. "I will trust you to protect my brother's flanks should it come to battle."

Eric's gaze was shocked, because he had assumed that he would be coming with Chuck. Yet he realized the reason that Chuck would keep him within the walls of Norfolk, as far as possible from the king.

Chuck continued, looking at the somber faces of the soldiers and the knights, "I will trust you with my lady's life."

At the words, Blair sucked in her breath. She turned to face the army, and the village, as they looked at her in surprise. She had not expected the words to be said here, in this forum, in this manner as he effectively said goodbye. Her hand tightened on his arm. He had said the words in a veiled plea for her protection. Now, whatever happened, should he fall, should the castle gates burst open and a battle ensue, each and every one of the people who heard his claim would stake his life to protect her—be it from the Tudors who did not know her, or from the Yorkists who did.

In front of Norfolk, he bent down and captured her lips for a kiss. Blair's arms rose to wrap around his neck. Her heart thudded with frantic speed as she heard the slow clatter of his horse's hooves, that he was about to leave and face Henry's notoriously efficient army. She felt the tears threaten her, because she had only just started to feel. When he turned and caught the reins of his horse, she grabbed his gloved hand.

With trembling fingers, Blair took off her small golden heart-shared brooch and pinned it to his mantle.

"It's your heart," he recognized. The corner of his lips curved as he remembered the fight she had put up to get it back.

"Aye," she answered. "It is yours now."

When he rode through the gates of Norfolk, Chuck turned back and saw her standing on the top step, exactly where he had left her. She raised her hand to wave at him, and he nodded. For the first time in the many times he had ridden out of Norfolk, he could not wait to return to the lady waiting for him. The Red Rose of Lancaster, his Tudor princess, had effectively caused him to waver in his maddening rush to bring down the usurper king, had made him ignore his deal with his Yorkist cousins.

For the first time since the fall of Richard and his own father Bartholomew, Chuck wondered if there could be more to his life than politics, than taking revenge against the king who rose to power through the influence of Lancastrian money and the treason of Yorkist lords.

An hour's ride away, as he spied the tents set up by the Tudor army, he realized how close he had come to watching his village burn to the ground. He sent a messenger to the king, and the king rode towards the rendezvous. To Chuck's surprise, he saw Nathaniel ride not far behind him.

The Tudor king was young, he realized. He did not know what he expected, but the man was not even thirty years old and he now held England in his hands. He looked nothing like Blair, but he sat proudly and looked down at Chuck with such deliberate intensity that he recognized was Blair's way of making him feel inferior. The king had taken the same strategy.

"King Henry," Chuck said quietly, "I would ask that you send the army away. There is no call for battle here."

Henry turned to Nathaniel, then back to Chuck. "When you have taken a princess of the realm, there is most definitely a call for battle. There is a call for execution. It is treason," Henry roared.

Chuck swallowed, but did not show his nerves. "You want England to see you as a peacemaker, to combine the two houses," he reasoned. "You do not wish to ground another Yorkist village."

"Do not tell the king what he thinks, Bass," Nathaniel warned.

"Do you realize that you have ridden to your death?" Henry asked softly. "I know you are at the head of plots to assassinate me." He jerked his head in signal, and of a sudden Chuck found himself surrounded by Henry's men. "Get off your horse."

No one else was going to die that day. Chuck's head threw him images of the princess as he slowly got off his horse. The dust rose like a cloud when his feet hit the ground. God, he prayed, for the first time in a long while, keep my people safe from Henry's wrath. And for Blair… for Blair, he hoped… he thought… he prayed. Nothing came to his head. Selfishly or not, he could think of no wish for Blair when he was gone. He could think of no life perfect for her when he was gone. But he knew what would happen. She would be trapped in the same gilded cage that Edmund Tudor had provided his daughter. And Henry would make it more lavish until he decided on the best alliance that could be brokered with the princess' hand.

His men drew their swords, and Chuck raised his hand to stop them. They would stand no chance.

"Henry," he addressed the king, "if you will me, then I would need your word on certain terms."

The king actually laughed. "Kneel down. I do not need terms from a criminal."

He saw a struggle behind Nathaniel, and saw his sister dragged out of one tent and forced to watch. Chuck bared his teeth. "Take her away," he said to Nathaniel. "You will not let her see this."

Nathaniel looked back in surprise, then turned his horse towards Serena. Chuck found himself dropping when a man kicked the back of his knees. Henry drew his sword, then raised it over Chuck's head.

The diamond caught the sunlight, and it glittered in Henry's eyes. He focused on the brilliance, and reached down to grab Chuck's mantle. He gripped the cloth where the brooch was pinned. "Where did you get this?" the king rasped. "Did you take it?" he demanded.

Chuck met Henry's eyes, then shook his head. "It was given to me freely," he answered.

"It cannot be," Henry replied. "She cannot be."

Chuck grasped the last remaining threads of hope for his survival, for his people. "Will you do it to her?" he whispered. "Can you do it? Can you kill me?"

Henry swallowed, then sheathed his sword. "I want her back." He glared at the brooch. "You have manipulated her, and her mind is tortured and warped from being your prisoner. We will cure her of this madness. I want her back now!" Chuck saw the emotions that warred on the king's face. "Your sister for mine," Henry offered.

The duke shut his eyes. God help him, he was going to say it—"N o."

The king's hands fisted to his sides. "The maid has given a near perfect, detailed account of the abduction. But I will not have your brother arrested for his crime." Chuck met the king's eyes. "Your sister back, your brother's life—Norfolk free from any attack of my army," the king added. "All I want is my sister."

Chuck drew a shuddering breath. "And my cousins?" he said, thinking of Pembroke, Mowbray, that dratted Neville, Norton—all in danger.

"We talk terms."

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

AN: I know what Blair said in the show, "In truth I'm not even Catholic." But she is the sister of the first Tudor king here, and thus a very very fervent Catholic. England was a Catholic nation before Henry VIII's grand separation for the love of Anne Boleyn.

Part 10

The gates opened, and he was the first to come bursting in with his horse. The village hailed his return, and Chuck nodded at them but spent no time to address them. Throughout the ride, he felt his sister's eyes on him, and she had called his name. Once she was freed, Chuck had curtly asked one of his knights to take Serena up with him on his horse, then rode back on his way to Norfolk.

Waiting at the foot of the steps to the keep was Sir Daniel with his knights. Chuck turned to his most trusted man and said, "Incompetence."

Sir Daniel set his jaw, then dropped to his knees—in admission and in apology.

As if the heavens learned of the deal that the duke of Norfolk had sealed with the king of England, the skies above the castle grounds opened up and it started pouring rain. The knights who had gone after Serena, and failed, remained as they were in their shamed posts.

Chuck felt the rain patter against his body hard, like punishment. He relished the small pain then strode into the keep with no more words. He took the stone steps two at a time, dripping water as he went along. His chambers were empty, and so was hers. He walked to the dining hall, and the soldiers who had gathered there with Sir Eric yelled in welcome. Chuck turned his back on them and continued his search.

"In the chapel, Chuck," Eric called out.

Without a second thought, he stepped outside the keep and into the rain, then crossed the grounds at a run to the small chapel that was built for his family.

And it was where he saw her.

The princess knelt at the very front of the chapel, covered by the black veil he had found her in. His pace slowed as he drew nearer, and he heard her whispered prayer. Chuck regarded her, with her face raised to the cross and the beaded rosary clutched in her hand.

"Blair," he breathed.

Her lips stopped in their fervent movements. Slowly, she turned her head and saw him standing a few yards away. She released a cry, then crossed herself. Blair caught her skirt and ran towards him. He caught her up in his soaked arms and saw the shadow of her tears. He pressed his lips against hers through the black veil.

"Thank God!"

Chuck drew a deep breath, taking in her fragrance. He swore there were tears in his eyes as well. Chuck closed one hand around hers, then lifted the black veil to reveal her to him. He looked up to the side and to the figure of Christ nailed to the cross. "Did you pray for my life, princess?" he whispered, the rainwater trailing down the crevices of his face.

Blair sniffled. "Over and over and over again, my lord," she confessed. "God has granted my prayer. You're home."

He drew her to him, and raised his gaze to the bleeding icon. His eyes drifted shut. He did not know what power He had, but He had granted Chuck's prayer even without his asking. "He granted my prayer when I found your lying on that floor."

"He has mysterious ways."

Chuck cupped her cheek, and said, "I know I said I'd rather wait," he began. His thumb caressed her cheekbone. Twenty four hours, and if she was not in Harcourt, Henry would storm Norfolk hard and fast that his entire village would be decimated. The warning was given in no vague terms; it left no room for doubt. "I no longer wish to wait."

She nodded, then brought their entwined hands to her lips. With her free hand she unpinned the black veil and allowed it to pool onto the floor around her feet.

And then she walked out of the chapel with him.

They returned to the keep, and came across Sir Daniel waiting at the doors. At the sight of the duke and the princess, he bowed his head. "Daniel," Chuck said. The knight straightened in attention when the duke addressed him. "We are not to be disturbed. By anyone," the duke stressed, his very words pertaining to his brother and his sister.

He took her with him, and they went directly to his chambers. His door closed behind him with a firm and final slam. Within moments, she had drawn a large drying cloth from the chest at the foot of his bed and handed it to him.

He would miss that attention. When she was gone, he would ask for the chest to be moved elsewhere, so he would not always see her phantom choosing brightly-colored tunics for him to wear. She went to him and helped him lift the mail, peel off the tunic. She saw his mantle on the floor, and she picked it up and laid it flat by the window to dry.

As she straightened the mantle, she felt his arms wrap around her. He pressed his body against hers, and she felt him so cold and warm at the same time. It was almost like it happened yesterday, she thought, remembering how he had teased and taunted her as they stood like this, right in front of the very window where she had placed his mantle.

And so, she reached behind and drew his hand up to cup her breast like he had done before. "Blair," he said into her ear, and she shivered at the hot breath. _You cannot tell me that you do not dream of this._

"I've dreamt of this," she admitted. "Ever since that morning I've dreamt of this." Blair drew his hand from her breast to rest on her stomach. Then, she bit her lip and lowered their clasped hands.

_Have sex with me._

"Take me, my lord," she pleaded.

"Blair," he said, almost regretfully, "there is no certainty in my life, in my place in this kingdom. But I have wanted to woman more than I do you."

She turned in his arms, and she faced him proudly. Her eyes were filled with admiration for the man who stood before her. She bargained with him, "No politics tonight. Leave that for men to discuss with men." He nodded. "I am your lady."

Blair placed both hands on his cheeks, then drew him down for a kiss. "Remember this, Blair. Whatever comes of tomorrow, we are inevitable."

She reached between them to peel away his sodden shirt. His hands reached behind her to undo the ribbon that held the dress fast. As the dress loosened, it fell down to bare her shoulders. He pulled them down to reveal the smooth skin he had seen so many times before. Blair pushed at the tunic and then laid her palms flat against his skin. And then, she dragged her hands down to the fastening of his britches, and purposefully undid them so they fell to the floor. In response, Chuck pulled her dress up over her head.

Soon, they stood naked in front of each other. With a deliberate movement, he lifted her up in his arms and held her against him. He walked to the bed and placed her at the center.

They had been intimate before—many times to count. Sexually, he had once taken perverse pleasure in teasing the untouched princess. Physically, they had seen each other naked through the poison and the subsequent recovery. Yet tonight, knowing that they lay bare to each other with full intention of joining, the sight of the body before them was so new.

She reached up and trailed a finger from the hollow of his throat to his navel. Chuck smiled at the sight of her hair fanned out under her head. And he laved her nipple with his tongue. She gasped, then buried her fingers in his hair. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

Her body arched from the bed, as if seeking his warmth above her. Chuck settled himself over her body and raised his torso with an elbow to the bed. He tugged at her nipped, and she let out a cry. He lifted his head, then pressed a kiss on her lips.

He created a burning path that spanned her stomach. Then, to her surprise, his tongue dipped in her navel. "Chuck," she whispered, looking down at him. "No."

His hands massaged her thighs, soothing the tense muscles as she primed herself. "Trust me," he said. "Open your legs, princess." She didn't. Chuck pressed a kiss on her knee, then moved inside until she relaxed and allowed her legs to part for him.

And then his mouth was pressed against her, in a kiss so intimate her cry burst hoarsely from her throat. She clutched at the sheets and turned her head to the side and her entire attention focused on his lips so soft against her. With each lunge of his tongue, she pushed closer and closer to the edge.

Until she fell. Blair gasped, breathing deeply and panting in the aftermath. When next she realized, he was right above her kissing her mouth. She tasted something different, something not unpleasant, and flushed when she realized that it was herself. Chuck smiled down at her abandon. His manhood was pressed against her thigh and she moved her legs to cradle him against her.

When she did, and part of him pressed against her opening, she gasped and started to pull away in panic. Chuck reached between them and pressed his fingers inside her, testing her, finding her smooth and slick from his ministrations. To confirm, he slid in one finger. He met her eyes when she bit her lip. He slid in another, and her hands clasped his back.

"Does it hurt?" She shook her head. "Remember what I told you," he murmured as he lifted his hips. She felt him position himself above her. "We—" He slipped inside, just the head. "We're inevitable," he breathed, then thrust his full length inside her.

Blair shut her eyes and the pain burst forth and stars exploded under her eyelids. He kissed her hairline, over and over, in his own way of apology. He reached down to massage her thighs as she clutched them at either side of his hips. And then, his hands moved to run up and down her inner thighs.

"Wait. The pain will go away." He restrained himself from moving, when every instinct told him to pull out and slam back in. Chuck wiped a trail of tear that fell from the corner of her eye down to her temple. "How is it?"

She stifled a sob, but nodded. "Better. Now it's more of fullness and a tight stretching."

As it should be. He flexed his hips to slide out of her halfway, then thrust back inside. Her eyes widened; her lips parted. "Oh." He recognized the sound. Chuck buried his face in the crook of her neck, knowing that it was a sound of pleasure. He slid out of her heat and drove inside again, and again.

Blair recognized her own voice, as if hearing it echo back from the cliffs. She did not sound like herself, but she did. She heard her call out Chuck's name over and over, raspy and hoarse and out of control. She gripped at his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him. She shut her eyes tightly and felt herself driving headlong towards another summit.

"Look at me, Blair," he said.

She opened her eyes, and saw the intensity of his gaze. Chuck drove deeply inside her over and over, and Blair felt her whole body tingle in anticipation. And then, she propelled so high and started to fall. She grabbed at him tight as her body spasmed around him. Chuck gritted his teeth and the painful pleasure of her muscles clenching around him in her release. He thrust inside a final time and spent himself.

They lay together as their bodies cooled. He held her against him as she allowed exhaustion to creep in, making her languorous and heavy.

"What do you miss most in being raised a princess?" he asked softly.

Blair murmured in contentment, and answered, "Nothing. I am perfectly happy where I am now."

"You must," he insisted. "You were very angered at your abduction. Surely there are things you love about being a Tudor that you cannot find in Norfolk."

Tired and puzzled, she humored him. "I miss my clothes," she said predictably, as she had said many times before. "The respect. The reverence." She sighed. "That I can do all wrong and never be told." She shrugged. "And these things I miss are the things I abhor as well."

He nodded and kissed her hair. "We will take a trip tomorrow, princess," he informed her.

"We will," she said softly. "Where shall we go, my lord?"

"A surprise," he said, tightening his arms around her.

The next morning, his horse went round to the bottom of the steps. Chuck climbed on, then reached for Blair, settling her in front of him, wrapping her in his mantle. It was the very same way she had ridden in to Norfolk. It was fitting to ride out the same.

They traveled the roads with only six of his knights, Sir Daniel still keeping to the duke's right flank. Blair curiously awaited the revelation of their destination. And then, they drew close to a fortress and Blair immediately searched for the flags.

They were white. Surrounded by red.

Tudor.

She stiffened in his arms and leaned forward and away from him. With wide, hurt eyes, she glared at the man behind her. "What are you doing?" she gasped in disbelief.

"I had no choice," he told her, his eyes bare and naked before her. He pressed a kiss on her forehead. "It had to be done."

"You betrayed me," she realized in a trembling voice.

He shook his head. "I can drown in you. I would willingly drown inside you until I die," he confessed, not so much with three words he had once taunted her to say. "But I would rather a long lifetime with you that a short, bloody one. Blair, I would rather wait."

Her eyes brimmed with tears. She glanced at he fortress and saw the gates opening to reveal a small girl carrying a white cat. Even in her pain, she managed to turn to the first knight. "It's Jenny," Blair offered. Sir Daniel gripped his reins more tightly and narrowed his eyes, eager to glimpse his sister. He had good control. If it were she, Blair thought she would have run to that loved one lost. Blair said into the wind. "What if I never see you again?"

He helped her down, as agreed with Henry. He would not come near the Tudor city. He would take the princess a short walk away and leave. He pulled her against him. For a long moment, they were silent in their embrace. And then, he cleared his throat, then took the heart brooch out of his mantle.

"It was a gift," she said, pushing his hand back.

He did not heed her. He pierced the front of her gown and placed the brooch on her. "You will give it back to me when we meet again." And then, he climbed back up on the horse. "And we will meet again, Blair, properly this time. This should put me in the king's favor, and I will come to you in court at once."

Blair covered her lips with trembling hands as she watched him ride away. "Don't leave!" she cried. And then, almost chokingly, she sobbed, "I love you!"

Chuck kept his gaze towards the direction of Norfolk, then kneed his horse to go faster.

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

AN: I am still addicted to this story, and I felt like it deserved another update immediately because it has suddenly become the poor neglected older child vying for attention. Lol.

Part 11

Norfolk had gone impossibly dark.

That was how the keep appeared to him now. All else remained the same—the feasts in the main hall continued for his knights, the people in the village farmed, and crafted, the way they used too—but all halted and hushed when he walked by. It was in the quiet anger that reverberated through him. He knew it as he felt it, and he pulsed with restless fury that grew each day.

He had not exchanged words with his brother or his sister since the day he came home without Blair.

All that Chuck Bass had feared to lose after Bosworth—his brother Eric, his sister Serena, the castle grounds and the people of Norfolk—all of them he had back. He was assured of their safety for the interminable period that Henry VII would likely reign.

The sweating sickness swept the kingdom, sweeping entire towns until only a third of the inhabitants remained standing after a day. The illness worked fast, depleted even the strongest men. Norfolk had been blessed. In an effort to regain the duke's confidence, Sir Daniel had installed a closed door rule on the Bass holdings. To protect the people, no outsider would be allowed inside the walls.

From a passing peddler that was not allowed inside, he heard news that the Yorkist fortress of the Herberts had been hit. In a rapid and violent course of two days, a mere twenty remained of the hundred and two inhabitants of the castle.

And still, despite the fact that Chuck Bass had traded Blair Waldorf for the safety of his Herbert cousin, he did not address the massive death toll in the house of York. Truth be told, he made no effort to address anything at all.

And so it came to Serena to come to her brother in tears. "When you look at me, do you regret that I was the cause of it? Do you wish that my return did not cost you the princess?"

"Do not ask me to answer it, sister," Chuck said in quiet response. "I love you too much."

Her eyes fluttered closed as more tears rose. "I am so sorry," she declared.

His breath shuddered in his chest as he looked out the window. When he said no more, Serena turned and fled the chambers. Chuck held up his fisted hand and looked down at the beaded rosary that Blair had left on the chapel floor.

Looking out from another window, behind another castle wall, Jenny Humphrey stood in the hot, humid chamber watching the fires raze huts down in the town. She had turned away the moment the doctor raised a knife, then ran the edge over the flame of a candle. Jenny had seen it done before, to skin that had before been so flawless and beautiful. The doctor cut a thin stripe through the princess' arm, enough to let blood drip into the small basin.

"Jenny," she heard the soft call from the bed.

Even if she did not want to watch her princess bleed, Jenny Humphrey turned and walked to the side of the bed, then dropped to her knees. Her eyes were drawn to the limp arm that the doctor now held to ensure that he could draw the sickened blood from Blair's body. "My lady," Jenny pleaded, "do not speak. You must preserve your strength."

She looked up at the king, who stood in the far corner of the room with a handkerchief held to his mouth. Jenny blinked away her tears, because the princess had arrived hale and hearty from enemy hands. King Henry lifted the cloth from his mouth, then told the doctor, "Have you given her herbs and molasses?"

The doctor nodded. "I fear it is time to bleed her from between her shoulders."

"Aye."

Jenny knew the king studied the disease very closely since he arrived, but the princess already seemed teetering on the brink, the bowl halfway full with her blood. "Doctor," she said, out of turn, "does she not need her blood to recover? Surely you will not take more."

The older gentleman turned to Jenny with a patronizing smile. "This is the cure, little girl. Do not question the methods of medicine."

Jenny watched in horror as the doctor placed Blair's arm to her side, and the princess' nightgown darkened red as her arm bled to the cloth. The older man turned the princess to her side, then opened the back of the gown. Jenny flinched when Blair's ashen face tightened in pain, and knew the doctor had cut into her back.

"Does she bleed?" the king asked.

"She bleeds well and fast," assured the doctor.

"That is good. Very good, Blair," Henry murmured.

Jenny cried by the side of the bed. She looked at the princess, whom she had loved since she was old enough to remember. From an early age, when her mother first took her to the Richmond castle on a job to create clothes for the little princess, Jenny Humphrey had wanted to be like her, act like her, dress like her. Jenny Humphrey had wanted to be the beautiful little girl that everyone revered.

Princess Blair did not look beautiful at all today.

"You cannot stay here," the princess whispered. "Jenny, you must flee. You are too young for this scourge to take you."

"We are but two years apart, my lady."

Blair opened her eyes. "But it is too late for me." Jenny started to protest. "Listen, Jenny. I want you to do something for me."

"Anything!" the maid exclaimed, her voice tremulous with sincerity.

"Take Cat. Go to Norfolk." The princess' eyes squeezed shut as the wave of dizziness hit her—from the sickness, from the loss of blood, it did not matter. And then, she continued, "You must reunite with your brother. He has been broken since he lost you."

The princess had told her of the disgruntled knight the very moment they talked upon her return. But Jenny had one mission, and even longing for family would have interfered. "My lady, I must serve you."

"You and I both know, Jenny, that I will slip into a slumber from which there is no waking." Blair's eyes drifted closed. "I wish—I wish I had done so many things I did not, Jenny. I wish I had stayed there." Jenny frowned, because the princess could not possibly desire that prison. "You must go."

The words caused Jenny's throat to close, and she reached for the princess' hand to kiss. Blair pulled away with as much strength as she could. "No. We do not know how it catches. You cannot bring this illness into Norfolk."

"Leave the chambers, girl. I wish to spend a moment with the princess."

Jenny rose by the order of the king, and she curtsied, then back out. When she closed the door behind her, she burst into tears. Jenny sobbed into the sleeve of her dress. After a good long cry, her face was wet and her nose full. A handkerchief was held out to her. She took it and then recognized the lord who had returned with Henry when they sought the princess.

"Thank you."

The lord waved a hand in gesture for her to keep the cloth. "Like everyone in this accursed hell, she is dying," his voice rumbled. "I have seen forty bodies burned today, perished of the Sweat."

Jenny shook her head. Her princess could not be burned in a pile of corpses.

"I caused this to happen," he admitted quietly. "Norfolk is untouched by the disease. If it had not been for me, she would not be dying."

Yet if anyone understood commitment and loyalty to your master, it was she. "You did what your king asked of you," Jenny offered. "There is no wrong in that."

Both looked up when the door opened and king stepped outside. Nathaniel bowed low, and Jenny dropped into a curtsy. "Rise." They did, eager for the king's words. Jenny was eager to step inside and see to her mistress. The king looked at her. "My sister wished for you to go to Norfolk. Lord Archibald is tasked to take you."

"My lord," Jenny gasped, "I have sworn my life to serve the princess." She rushed to kneel in front of the king. Jenny clutched his beringed hand. "I cannot leave her now."

Henry pulled his hand out of hers, then patted her head. "You are out of your vow, Jenny Humphrey. I will gather what is left of my court and we shall move to London. The princess is gone."

Jenny turned wide eyes at the door. She picked up her skirts and prepared to race back to the princess' side. But Lord Archibald caught her arms and pulled her back. "Jenny, Jenny," he repeated, his voice calming. "You should not see her now."

"Take the girl to Norfolk," the king told Nathaniel. To Jenny, he handed a small leather pouch. "Take this to Chuck Bass. Tell him it is a keepsake. Be well, little Jenny. Be soothed by the knowledge that you have served the princess well."

Jenny closed her eyes, and the tears fell like rain. She looked back at the chamber doors, then at Henry's back as he entered. "I have to get Cat," she remembered. Jenny turned frantically to look for Blair's white pet. "Help me, my lord. We need to find Cat!"

The next day, they pounded on the gates of Norfolk. Sealed shut, hostile to travelers, they found no warm welcome into the village. Nathaniel called out to the soldiers who guarded it.

"Sir Daniel says no travelers! Our apologies. There is another open village two hours ride west."

Jenny called out. "Tell him it is his sister, and we have a message for the duke from the king himself." Her voice was proud and arrogant when she claimed the honored position of a messenger, only to be met with a suspicious scowl.

"Jenny," Nathaniel cautioned, "saying the name of Henry here will not get you the appreciation you want, Jenny. Not here."

It took several minutes, and then, the gates creaked open and Sir Daniel stepped outside. "Jenny?" he exclaimed.

Jenny turned and regarded the young man that she barely recognized. "Dan?" her voice was uncertain.

"Aye. Tis I." Jenny gasped and raced to him to throw her arms around him. Dan caught his sister in his embrace, breathed in the scent, marveled at how much she had grown. "They said you had a message for the duke."

Jenny nodded. "But I can only give it to him myself."

Dan glanced at the soldiers who watched them closely. "I cannot allow you inside, Jenny. Not with the threat of the Sweat." Sir Daniel looked up and recognized Lord Archibald. "What are you doing here?"

Nathaniel set his jaw. "I have come to protect your sister on the way, so that she can deliver Henry's message safely."

Sir Daniel regarded the two, then shook his head. "Call for the duke," he ordered. He looked at his sister sadly. "Jenny, this disease is real."

"I know it is," Jenny cried out. "It swept Harcourt like wildfire. We did not get sick. We are safe, Dan," she insisted.

And then, the gates opened, to the surprise of even Daniel Humphrey. He turned back and saw the duke, appearing unkempt, standing at the top of the stone steps.

Chuck called loudly, "Visitors from Harcourt. Deliver your message from Henry, and be on your way."

Behind him, Serena gasped at the sight of Nathaniel Archibald escorting the strange girl. Jenny jumped down from her gelding, then made her way up the steps to the duke. She took the pouch from where it hung around her neck, then presented it to him. "A keepsake for you, your grace, from his highness Henry VII."

Chuck took the leather pouch and pulled to open it. He dropped the content onto his palm.

A small gold and diamond heart.

Chuck drew his breath, then closed his hand around it. "Where is she?" he whispered.

Jenny strained to hear him. And then when she recognized his words, her eyes fell. "Perished from the sweating sickness, your grace. She caught it moments after she entered Harcourt." Jenny was brave, and they were enemies, all of them. She could not weep and show weakness, but could not help the sting of tears. "She said she wished she'd stayed here. Perhaps she would not have gotten sick if she did," Jenny continued. It was the only possible reason that the princess would say it.

Chuck's eyes blazed, and he raised his accusing gaze to Nathaniel. He gripped the brooch so tightly it pierced his palm. "Tell me it is a lie," he rasped at his cousin.

Nathaniel's guilt rose to the surface. He had not known about Chuck's affection for the captive princess until the day the duke delivered Blair to Harcourt, and Nathaniel watched the goodbye from the rafters. He slowly climbed the steps and then pulled Chuck heavily into an embrace. Whichever side they were in, the blood that coursed through their veins came from one, long ago Plantagenet ancestor. "I cannot say enough how sorry I am," Nathaniel said into his cousin's ear.

Chuck's nostrils flared, his face contorted at his valiant effort to contain his rage. And then, he clutched Nathaniel's shoulders tightly. With one shuddering breath, Chuck threw his cousin down the few stone steps until Nathaniel lay twisted and groaning on the dusty ground.

Serena called Nathaniel's name, then fled down the steps to check on him. She glared up at her brother.

"You," Chuck spat at Nathaniel. He turned to Serena, "you," at Eric, "you," at Daniel, "you. All of you—all of you killed her." He raised his fisted hand to his lips, where he gripped the brooch so hard blood trickled from his palm down to his wrist. And then Chuck turned and stalked back into the keep.

In Harcourt, Henry's staff and nobles prepared for the transfer to London. The population grieved, and he would take with him now a household so much smaller than the one he brought with him. Even now, a small pile burned outside.

He made his way to the chambers where no one else was allowed. He stood by the door and watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, and sent a fervent prayer to Christ.

"How does she?"

The doctor broke into a smile. "A miracle. It is a miracle."

"The princess is dead," Henry said firmly. "You and I are the only ones left who know otherwise."

The doctor nodded. "The princess is dead." The older man furrowed his brows, then asked, "But why, your highness?"

"Blair has never been hurt or taken, when no one knew she existed." Henry sat by his sister's bedside. "Now too many people know of her."

"You are king."

"And I must protect her, like my father had done before me." He reached out his hand and traced one cut on her arm, where she had initially been bled. "Whatever it takes, she will be safe." Henry thought of the grand holdings he had acquired, not far from London. She would be guarded, and no harm would come to her.

He dismissed the doctor when she started to stir. When she woke, Blair released a heavy sigh.

"Welcome back," he greeted. "I feared for your life."

She smiled at her brother. "Harry, there are more for me to do in this world."

He raised her hand to his lips. "Aye, Blair, of course. You will have a new chance. I will give you a new life." Henry brushed her hair from her forehead. "You will move about in court and use another name. You will have everything and more than you had in Calais."

"Harry, I want to visit Norfolk." He squeezed her hand, and shook his head sadly. "They were kind to me. Harry—"

"I'm afraid Norfolk is no more, Blair," the king informed her. "Razed by the disease that almost took you. Burned to ground until it stank the skies."

Blair's lips parted, and a sob tightened her chest. "Wh—" She released the heavy breath. "Wha—"

"The duke was an honorable man, it seemed. He did not abandon his people."

"Gone along with them?" she whispered.

"There is no better way to die."

tbc


	12. Chapter 12

AN: This story is going to be marked M. I apologize to those who are not allowed to read M. But let's face it, most of my PG13s actually have some M here and there. Warning: This part contains material that might be offensive to some readers. But I assure you, I never write in these parts without them being integral to the story.

Part 12

"Bless me, padre, for I have sinned," he said. Chuck Bass' voice, despite its quietness, reverberated inside the cool interior of the confessional. The priest's face was shadowed, partly blocked by the loosely woven screen between them. "My last confession was a half year past."

"A long time ago," the priest said.

"Si, padre. It was before the fall." Right after Richard was killed in battle. "The last time I confessed, I had brought the bodies of my father and our knights back from the field where they were mangled by French mercenaries."

And it was a path that even the priest would not tread. There was no separation between the church and the kingdom. "Speak, hijo. What is it that hangs heavy in your heart?"

Chuck opened his tightly closed fist, and reveled in the shiny token of the golden heart. "I have blood on my hands," he admitted softly.

The priest released a large sigh. "I have heard of your efforts, hijo."

"I do not speak of the battles I have led." And he had led the Norfolk army, to battle after battle, to surge through Lancastrian keeps, to ram through the walls of the minor Tudor fortresses. Norfolk had become a bane, and they would be a bane that Henry would not ignore.

Once, he had given to Henry what Henry had desired. Chuck's sun had gone, and nothing took its place.

"Then what blood?"

"I sought to keep my people safe, to earn protection for my brother, to retrieve my sister, and for those I have her blood in my hands," he rasped.

"Whose blood?"

Chuck shut his eyes, squeezed them tight at the rapid and violent flood of the memory. He had ridden to Harcourt and pounded at the gates, screamed at the guards. "Let me in!"

As a favor, grand and undeserved and for only one time, Henry climbed the ramparts and called out to him. "Bass, return to your home. Do not come to this place of death."

"Henry, you bastard, I want to see her!"

Henry had gestured to the dark smoke rising.

Chuck opened his eyes, and now he was no longer under the punishing glare of the sun. Inside the cold confessional, he continued, "I delivered her to her death. My Blair."

But the priest had seen far too many deaths since the beginning of his calling. There had been too many people taken by disease and war. "I am certain, my son, that you did not cause her death."

"She wanted to stay," he recalled, from Jenny Humphrey's words on the day that the princess died. "And I exchanged her for my family and my village."

The priest was silent. "You must forgive yourself for the choices that you have made."

"I cannot."

"Would you rather your family died and your village gone if you had her back?" was the priest's question.

And his answer was not the one the holy man expected. Because this was the duke of Norfolk. This was the last remaining Yorkist son to raise his arms and fight the Tudor king. "In a heartbeat." And the answer killed his soul in all its truth.

"Yet you would feel the same if she had lived and everything else was gone. Regret is everpresent, mijo."

"Tell me what to do," Chuck said urgently. "I fight my wars each time with the hope of killing the king." And he was a berserker, Daniel had said. Uncontrollable, charging to the front when the nobleman must remain at the back with his flanks guarded. "I fight my wars each time praying a stray arrow would pierce me." He saw the shadowed image of the priest make a sign of the cross. "I would that I could come home to her."

"Hijo," the priest cautioned in a hushed voice, "it is a sin against God to take our own lives."

"It is a sin to take away one so beautiful," Chuck whispered. In the back of his head he wondered if lightning should strike him as he walked out of the church for holding a grudge against God.

And in the end, it was unsettled. The priest asked him to pray, and told him that he would pray as well. He drew her rosary beads from her pockets, and kissed the cross. Chuck bowed his head, his lips moving quickly as he muttered, "Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos, santificado sea tu nombre." Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. "Venga tu reyno, hagase tu voluntad, asì en la tierra como en el cielo." Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

They continued in the silent prayer, and Chuck had closed his eyes. With his head hung low, he willed himself the see his Lord. And when the prayer finished, the priest asked, "You did not kill her. The disease had found her; and so grieve with England, mijo."

Chuck shook his head frantically, kept his head down.

"Then see her. Apologize. If this is the only way you will forgive yourself."

There was no vision in hand, and Chuck forced himself to remember her smile. In his dreams she haunted him, but now that he called for her, in his wakefulness, so he could take her hand and tell her his deepest guilt at his part in her fate, she would not come.

And then he smelled her, all around him, surrounding him. He took a deep breath so he could drown in her scent, the way he had prayed for since the day he returned her to the king, and delivered her to Harcourt. And with his eyes closed, he imagined that he was in her embrace.

He took in long deep breaths, relishing in the fragrance, allowing the sensation of her arms around him to sink deep into his pores, forever a part of him.

"Do not forget me," he heard her whisper into his ear.

"I will not," he murmured into the utter blackness that was filled only with her scent.

~o~o~o~o~o~

"Who decides who lives and who dies?" she whispered into the wind whipping at her as she stood on the ledge from the ramparts.

"Blair, come inside," Henry called, his voice full of authority, his tone enough to send diplomats to their knees.

Her eyes drifted closed, and she relished the sensation of the harsh wind blowing her dress until it plastered to her form. She extended her arms and breathed. If she should fall, perhaps he would meet her. One thing kept her, and it had kept her from leaping for too long now.

"If you take your own life," her brother had told her, "it matters not that I am king. You will be unshriven and I cannot save your soul."

"I have been dead for months, Harry," she said softly.

The king walked up slowly and took Blair's hand in his, and then he urged her down. She sent a longing look down at the grounds, and he sighed in relief when she stepped off the ledge. "You are lonely, still mourning for the loss of Norfolk."

"I lived with them, Harry. I know their faces. They cannot be gone."

"Yet they are," Henry said. "I cannot understand, Blair, why you would grieve for them so. They are barbarians who took you by force."

She shook her head. "They are just like us, just like Richmond. You would not understand, Harry."

He king pushed his sister's hair away from her face, as the wind had blown her hair into disarray. "I understand," he assured her.

"I belonged there."

"You will soon have people who will love you, people you will care for. And they will know you as their lady."

And it was how her brother informed her that she would now do her part to bring peace to England. And all along, as she had traveled from Calais to England long before, to be princess, she had known that this was what Henry had intended for her. And through it all she had not complained, not doubted her brother. Even then, as he told her that he would marry her to a Yorkist lord who had pledged his fealty to the Tudors, and brought with him as allies other once loyal Yorkist lords, Blair's heart clenched, rebelled at the very idea.

"It is his prize for his show of loyalty, Blair."

"And now I am a prize?" She had always been a prize. It was why she had been so adored.

"Fret not, my dear sister," Henry advised. "He is a handsome young man. I would not have given you an unsightly old lord." She turned her face away. "Look at me, Blair." And she did, because he was the king. "I am doing this for you as well. When you hold your child in your arms, your heavy heart will be cured, and you will be happy."

Happy.

"And you will not find yourself tempted to fling yourself from the ledge."

Very briefly, once upon a time, she had thought to experience all of these in Norfolk, with Chuck. And now she ends with another Yorkist lord, a lord against Henry, who had turned to him belatedly. What loyalty! she thought. "What is the name of my husband then?"

"He is a good, strong fellow, Blair. You will be pleased with my choice."

"Who is it?"

"Baizen," Henry offered. "You know him not."

_He grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. "Do you wish to be ripped and torn apart by a man?" Chuck asked in a menacing whisper. "That is what will befall you in Carter Baizen's bed. He cares nothing for a woman, and will near kill you."_

"You will be married here tonight. And the lands I have given you will be safe in his care, as will you."

The wedding was quiet, hushed, done in the dead of the night in the small chapel. She had worn a dark blue gown and a black veil covered her as the priest pronounced the wedding rites. Blair had looked at Carter's countenance as he married a girl he had not even seen. But he was somber, and he said the right words.

"It cannot be a big wedding, nor a royal show. To everyone you are an orphaned heiress," Henry had told her. "This is the best for you, Blair. Do you not trust me?"

"Harry, Carter Baizen is not a good man. Chuck Bass told me."

"Chuck Bass was a traitor who wished death to fall on our house," Henry reminded her. "Carter Baizen surrenders with more Yorkist keeps and lords. Who is to be trusted between the two?"

And when Carter lifted the veil, to give a kiss to his new bride, his eyes widened. He leaned towards her, and whispered in her ear, "So this is my reward? The king hands me Bass' leftovers? No wonder he cannot marry you off to his own nobles. He thinks to dump his trash in York."

She sucked in her breath, then threw a helpless look at Henry.

Henry pronounced, "I am trusting you with Lady Blair. She is precious to me."

Carter gritted his teeth, then looked around at the former lords of York that he had brought to pledge fealty to Henry. "Take a look at my lovely wife, cousins, before I take her away to my keep."

"Your grace," she pleaded with her brother, "I do not wish to leave your court."

Henry chuckled, then threw a look at Carter. "You are newly married, Lady Blair. I am certain Lord Baizen will have enough entertainment as you celebrate in Graystone." At Carter's look of surprise, Henry said, "I am granting you the whole keep of Graystone, my lord. It should be a welcome addition to the properties you will hold from Lady Blair's dowry."

Carter bowed deeply in front of Henry. Then, he took Blair's hand and pulled her along out of the chapel. "You might just be worth all this, lady."

During the travel, she was spared from his presence. Carter Baizen had been engrossed in discussion with the man-at-arms that Henry had provided for his new keep. Yet the moment they stepped into Graystone, she knew that what she had once feared was about to happen.

She shivered when he entered her chambers. He discarded his clothes in front of her and showed no shame when he stood naked before her. Blair lowered her lashes.

"Come, wife. Do not act the maiden. Bass had you until he tamed you, did he not?" Carter smirked. "Did he not say you were a vixen in how you scratched his back?"

Blair flushed at the crude words. She was no virgin, and she regretted nothing of that last night when she lay with the duke. "I loved him, my lord. I love him until now." And she knew how unadvisable it was to claim to love another man in front of her husband. She walked up to him, avoided turning her gaze to his bare body, and asked, "If you will give me time, my lord. Perhaps someday we will like each other."

"Until we consummate, none of this is mine," he breathed into her face. She stumbled away from him. Carter turned away and poured wine into a glass, then handed it to her. "We will make this quick and easy."

Blair took the glass and drank the wine, then made a bitter face. She placed the glass down. Then looked at the empty bed. She shook her head. "I cannot, my lord."

He grabbed her wrists and pulled her against him. She jerked away at the feel of him prodding at her thigh. His fingers buried in her hair as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, bit at her lip. She yelped and try to tear her face away from his. When she dislodged his mouth from hers, his lips roved hungrily and wetly all over her face.

"Don't!"

And then he had grabbed her by the waist and pushed her towards the bed. She collapsed crosswise on it, with her feet still flat on the floor. He held up both of her wrists with one hands and pressed it back against the bed. He held her down with his knees and she squealed in pain when his bone dug into the skin of her leg.

Tears flooded her eyes, as every contact sent back memories of the only night she had spent with a man. This, this was so different. This was pain and force when Chuck had been gentle and attentive. She was a princess, not anyone who should suffer through this indignity. She bucked her hips to dislodge him. Caught off guard, he stumbled to the floor.

And then she screamed when he caught her leg and pulled her down. She fell to the hard floor with a thud and hit the side of her head. Dazed, she shook her head. And then he was on her, pulling down her drawers, hiking her skirts to her hips. "Carter, please stop." And now she was sobbing.

She beat at his chest and pushed at his shoulders. Again, he caught her hands with one and pressed them to the floor. He clapped a hand on her mouth, and he shook his head. "Hush, wife. Do not fight it. If you could take Bass, you can certainly take me."

And then he released her mouth as his hand went between their bodies. She panicked when she felt that he was freeing himself from his breeches. He slammed his mouth on hers and swallowed her scream. And then, he plunged his fingers into her dryness and she squeezed her eyes shut, tears rolling down their corners.

And that was when she felt his hard, insistent flesh pressing against her. With one final effort, she tore her face from his and screamed.

His name. Over and over. Knowing he was gone and he would not come.

Red rage mottled her husband's face, and he backhanded her. And for once, she was grateful. The blow had sent her reeling, and the pain was so intense that the next, when he rammed himself into her dry, tense body, seemed a little less painful.

Blood filled her mouth, and she was grateful.

He released her wrists, but she did not move her arms. They remained over her head, crossed, as he used his hands now to hold her open as he battered his body in her. His heavy weight bore down on her, and she retreated to a place far away from where she was. When she reacted to none of his thrusts, he took her chin in his hand and turned her to face him.

"Look at me!" he spat.

But with her eyes closed, she could imagine somewhere else, someone else.

Even while he tore her apart. He leaned closer, then ran a hot tongue along the shell of her ear. "Listen to my voice, wife. I'm not Chuck. I'm your husband, and we will do this every night until you accept that."

He pumped inside her as she lay open without movement, and it frustrated him. He thrust in and out, violent, knowing he was ripping her. Her eyes squeezed even tighter. "Chuck," she whispered.

And it incensed him. "Stop it," he hissed at her. "He's not coming. He doesn't even know you're here. The bastard's gone insane with this rebellion he's gotten most of our line killed."

And with that exclamation, her eyes flew open, meeting his as he sweated above her.

tbc

AN: I know it might put off some of you, but I am hoping you stick with it.


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Thank you for all your thoughts on the story.

Part 13

Other families, other ladies, other soldiers had inhabited Graystone before them. Blair wrapped a mantle around her body as she made her way to the armory with her brother's man-at-arms, who had been surprised when she had requested to see the weapons in the castle. Even walking was painful to her, but she refused to give in to the pain.

The man showed her the impressive collection hanging from the walls and lined up on the tables of the armory.

"Lady Blair," said Sir Rufus, "I had not thought you interested in weaponry."

She reached out a hand, her arms screaming, and touched the handle of the various swords and axes there. Some even had traces of blood on them. Blair turned to look up at the knight. "Certainly when the men are gone, the women are expected to defend themselves." Blair picked up a slim dagger encased in leather. She drew it from the case and found the tip still sharp. She tucked it into her belt.

"You must know, my lady, that you will always be protected."

She asked softly, "Is that what the king said?"

"Aye. You are to be protected at all times. Abandon the lord's flanks if needed, but always watch over the lady."

Blair nodded. Surely Sir Rufus did not miss the large swelling on half of her face, the swelling of her eye, the cut on her lip.

"What then happened to Henry's protection last night?" she asked, her voice a little hoarse still.

Sir Rufus flushed. "My lady, what happens in a man's chambers is his business." Pathetic excuses. "But if there is a battle, the Tudor knights shall first secure your person."

"That is good to hear," she murmured. Yet now, she wondered why, she no longer believed it. Her love for her brother had not and never would wane, but now there was no blind trust. He had handed her to the man who had hurt her more than anyone in Norfolk had. Not even Sir Daniel, who loathed her entire being, had violated her. Her eyes landed on a long narrow knife that hung from the wall. "What is it, Sir Rufus?" she asked, pointing to the weapon. "It is beautiful."

The knight took the weapon off the wall and presented it to Blair. "It is a beautiful weapon, my lady," he agreed. "More beautiful by its function."

"What is it for?" she asked, intrigued. Blair turned the knife in her hands.

"It is made to fit between the gaps of a knight's armor plates." Blair urged the man to explain. "It is a misericordia."

"Misery," she said in translation.

Sir Rufus nodded. "In battle, my lady, there are often those fatally wounded by slow in dying, prolonged in suffering. That is when," he said, "we draw the misericordia and end our brother's pain."

"A mercy death," she pronounced.

"Aye."

Blair held the knife close to her, the very prospect of its function so attractive to her. The misericodia ended suffering. Certainly, one day, she could make use of it.

~o~o~o~o~o~

It was with no small measure of spite that he watched as his sister bid farewell to the Lancastrian lord as Nathaniel Archibald climbed atop his horse. Indeed, in the past months since Nathaniel and Jenny Humphrey had arrived with news of Blair's death, Chuck had wanted to be rid of his cousin, to no avail. When he had banished him from the keep, he had turned up the next day and asked him to spar.

And he had been that desperate to let Nathaniel's blood that he had agreed.

No weapons, merely brute force. The two had gone headlong into a wrestling match out in the courtyard. He suspected that Nathaniel had gone lightly on him at the beginning, plagued as he had been by guilt on his part in Chuck's mourning. But it was soon enough that Nathaniel found himself fighting for his life.

The side of Chuck's face throbbed, but he took pleasure in seeing Nathaniel's eye swollen and blood trickling from his cousin's nose.

"Go back to your king!" Chuck had yelled.

Nathaniel had shaken his head. "I shall live with my regret until I die. And I shall stay with you, cousin."

"I do not wish you to stay."

"Yet I will serve under you."

Chuck stared at the forlorn image of Lord Archibald. Bruises had started to form on his bare chest. Chuck suspected he appeared the same. "Beware what you commit yourself to, cousin. You have pledged fealty to Henry."

The blonde jaw locked. "I had seen the blood and the death in the Sweat. And I had seen the princess from the moment you brought her to the moment just before she died, sick and bled til she was white as the sheet she lay upon." Nathaniel limped towards his cousin, and grasped Chuck's arm. "I owe you more than I owe Henry Tudor."

The duke swallowed, then met Nathaniel's eyes. "It is a debt you can never repay."

"I know."

Time over time, Nathaniel had been tested. Chuck had allowed him to lead the charge on Lancastrian fortresses loyal to Henry, and time over time Nathaniel had delivered—defeated keeps, gold and trade goods. News of Chuck Bass' attack on the keeps that flew the Tudor rose soon reached the king.

Yet Henry would test Chuck's mettle after all. This time, it was an old castle seized from York by Henry. It was a slap on the face of all of York when he installed his new favorite son into Graystone. Carter Baizen and his bride, Henry's ward, had been given the keep as Baizen's reward for enjoining four Yorkist lords to pledge fealty to Henry Tudor. Traitors, all of them!

For this charge, Chuck would lead his men into battle himself.

"Archibald, do not tarry!" he called out.

He turned to his knights, and found the Gypsy's long shawl whipping around his first knight. "Daniel!" he barked.

"We charge before they are settled and installed. It is the best time for assault," he reasoned to his men. "You will be home and warm soon enough."

~o~o~o~o~o

Blair jerked up in bed when the door shot open. She looked up at her husband, who stood breathing harshly, glaring at her.

"Did you send him a message?" he gritted out.

"What has come upon you?" she demanded. "What are you speaking of?"

"Bass, Blair," he hissed. "Did you send your lover a message that sends him marching to us?"

"How can I send him a message?"

Carter strode to the windows and inspected them. He turned around and stared at her form as she sat on the bed, her hair in disarray around her head, the sheets of the bed tangled around her legs. "Do you still hurt?"

Her eyes narrowed. She held her breath. His eyes fell to the tight bodies of her nightgown. She demanded, "What do you think?"

His hand fell to her thigh and squeezed. "I think you hurt and you throb from me still." He leaned close to her ear. "That is what a real man feels like, wife. Time you found out how fucking is from me, not from a pathetic excuse like Bass." Carter's lips lowered to take hers.

And then stopped. His eyes widened and he pulled back, pressing his hand over the bleeding that started from his throat. He looked down at her appalled and he saw the blood that now stained the thin dagger that she held up.

"You are insane, woman!" he yelled.

Blair thrust her chin up. She warned him softly, "You will not touch me ever again."

"You are my wife," he spat. "My chattel. I can do as I please with you. If I want you, you will lie back and shut up." He lunged for her.

And all those lonely days in Calais were not spent on lounging. She thrust the dagger forward and wounded his knuckles. He swore, then stumbled backwards. It was not so sudden, despite what she would later think. Blair held the dagger steady before her and said, "I am the princess of England, you bastard." Henry had called her his ward for long enough. He had denied her her heritage to keep her safe, so that no one would take her against her will like the Norfolk men had done. But by far this had been the worst she had ever suffered, from a man he had rewarded. "I can kill you now and I shall never be punished for it, so tread lightly, husband," she spat out the last word like an insult.

"Princess," he exclaimed in disbelief. "You're the bloody red rose that perished in Harcourt?"

She glared at him. "You were rewarded handsomely by bringing your cousins to Henry, Carter. Are you not pleased?"

Carter held up his hands. "Put down the dagger."

She gave a haughty chuckle. "You do not order me to do anything. You do not touch me. You do not speak to me." She smiled thinly. "You will have the servants saddle a horse for me, with rations enough for a week in a pack."

Carter walked sideways to keep his eye on the dagger as he made his way back towards the door. "You wish to meet his party? You think to travel alone on these roads, Blair? You will not survive it."

She thought back to the night before. "I have suffered through worse."

"We could have made it work," Carter said, "if you had not been so preoccupied pining for a traitor who would soon meet his end."

Blair grabbed a traveling frock from her chest and hurriedly put it on. And then, she reached down and slipped on her shoes. Blair took the satchel that she had prepared from the armory and slung it over her shoulder. She hurried towards the door and waited as Carter commanded the arrangements to be done for her.

They made their way to the front doors. She turned around and saw Sir Rufus rushing into the castle.

"Norfolk is upon us," he told Carter. "Less than an hour away."

Carter received the small bag from the servant and handed it to Blair. He advised, "You are riding headlong into something which you do not know."

Blair accepted the bag. Instead of answering her husband, she demanded, "And my beast?"

"You only ride sidesaddle, lady. But your sidesaddle had been taken apart for maintenance. It shall take about a day."

Blair took a deep breath. There was no way she would spend another day under this roof. "There is a first for everything. A saddle then."

Carter nodded, and a mare cantered to the front.

Sir Rufus protested. Blair turned a pleading gaze at the knight, who winced at the sight of her battered face now turning purple and blue. "If you please, Sir Rufus."

Carter turned to the Tudor man-at-arms. "You are witness to this. She is insane to go. I did not force her away. Tell that Henry when he demands for her."

Rufus ignored Carter's stammering. "By my duty to the king, I must keep you here."

"By your duty to the king, you must keep me safe and alive." Blair blinked back her tears. "There is no safety for me here."

Carter straightened. "There is more safety here for you, unwilling in my bed, than there is out there where the rebels roam. You think any of them will ask you first if you are the duke of Norfolk's whore?"

And her hand flew so fast she barely noticed its progress. Next she knew, she had slapped her husband. Carter lunged to her, and Sir Rufus caught Carter's arms. Sir Rufus caught Carter's arms, then nodded at Blair. "By my duty to Henry I will need to come after you, my lady. But I shall give you a half an hour to start."

Blair nodded, then threw her bruised body onto Rufus' back to give the older knight a grateful embrace. And then, she picked up the items she had collected and tied them to the saddle. It was punishing on herself, on her thighs, for it being her first attempt and for her body still being sore. But her blood was pumping heavily, and the adrenaline coursed through her veins as she rode the horse out of Graystone's gates.

As her horse raced through the empty roads, Blair wrapped her arms around its neck, held on for dear life, then let out a scream of elation. For the first time in her entire life, she was all alone, without maids, without guards, without enemies surrounding her.

A half an hour before Sir Rufus started chasing her. And the Norfolk army was less than an hour's ride away. She would make it.

She let out a peal of laughter near hysterics. Her thighs were cramping around the body of the horse, and her battered body was suffering through the jarring ride. But still, she blinked back the pained tears.

She was free.

~o~o~o~o~o~

It was Sir Daniel who called his attention, pointing towards the direction of Graystone.

Chuck Bass, at the front of the line, turned to see the lone rider foolish enough to be charging towards them. "What on God's green earth," he muttered.

"Arrowmen, your grace?" Daniel asked.

"That rider is alone," Chuck said in protest.

Nathaniel's horse cantered towards the two. "He bears no standard, nor is he waving a white flag as a messenger."

The rider drew nearer, and what Chuck had thought was a mantle turned out to be long brown hair whipping in the wind. "It's a woman."

Sir Daniel watched as the woman's arms around the horse's neck loosened, and she raised one hand to wave to them. "Good lord, what is she doing? She does not know how to ride."

"No."

And then he heard her. Her voice was faint, against the wind that carried sound to the other direction. She called his name.

"No," Chuck breathed. "It's impossible." Yet still, he kicked his horse and it burst into a run, in full gallop towards the lone rider.

Her horse slowed until it came to a stop. He stopped his own stallion a few feet away. He jumped off his horse, and slowly walked up to her.

He stopped at her right at her foot. "Princess." His eyes clouded by his tears. "Have I died and gone to heaven?"

She burst into tears. He reached up his arms to her. Blair placed her arms on his shoulders and slid down from the horse. But her knees buckled when her feet touched the ground, and she clung to him with her arms around his neck.

"I cannot walk," she gasped into his ear.

Chuck pulled up her skirts in concern, and saw immediately the bruises on her thighs. He frowned, because Graystone had not been too far, even if she was unused to a saddle. He gripped her arm, and she groaned in pain. He froze. Chuck knelt by the hooves of her horse to check on her.

He saw Nathaniel and Daniel both riding towards them.

Carefully, he peeled back the sleeves of her gown and saw the distinct bruises in the shape of a hand. Chuck looked up to her beloved face, and pushed away the hair. His nostrils flared at the sight of the swollen and bruised side of her face.

"Blair," he choked out. "Who has done this to you?"

Her arms tightened around his neck. He slowly stood and lifted her up in his arms. "I had tried to be true to you, and I wished to die when they said you had perished."

"They had told me you were dead, Blair. I tried to see you. I wanted you back." He saw the pained agony in her face as she turned to bury her tears in his chest, the way she used to do. And now, he was filled with pride. Whatever had happened to her, she had escaped it on her own. "Henry told me you had died, Blair, and the sun was gone."

"I will not go back," she cried.

"Who hurt you?" he repeated, holding her close, fearing she would vanish if he closed his eyes.

"My husband," she said softly. "Carter Baizen."

And just by the name, he could tell what his Blair had gone through. And even more, his heart fractured at the thought. He turned cold eyes at Nathaniel, who still seemed confused as to who it was that Chuck held so close to him.

"You told me she was dead," Chuck said in accusation. "Was that why you remained in Norfolk, cousin, to ensure that I never find out otherwise?"

Daniel jumped from his horse and strode to Chuck. "Give her to me."

Chuck shook his head. "She's hurt."

Daniel nodded. "Give her to me so you may climb astride your horse, and I can hand her to you."

Reluctantly, Chuck released her into his first knight's arms. Blair stiffened in Daniel's arms, and fought against his hold. "No!" Daniel released her and allowed her to stand on unsteady feet.

"Blair, he will help you stand." He was watchful as Daniel held the princess up, remembering that Daniel had once hurt Blair himself. He reached down for her, and winced when she let out a pained moan at the transfer. Chuck settled her against him. "I'm sorry, princess," he murmured, knowing the ride back to his men would hurt her even more.

She breathed deeply against the pain, and then, Chuck felt her hand rest on the golden heart that was pinned to his mantle—the golden heart that had been pinned to his mantle each time he went to battle. "I'm home."

tbc


	14. Chapter 14

Part 14

The first time that the duke of Norfolk retreated from battle, he had spent the journey back to his castle in the back of a covered wagon. They had searched for a comfortable position for her to lie on, even as they piled blankets upon blankets on the wooden planks that had stored their rations. The uneven grounds made for a punishing journey back to Norfolk, and he had drawn her to rest against him so he could cushion her body against each jarring roil and grind of the trip.

The first time that the duke of Norfolk called off his small army, he saw each man lower their head once, to show agreement, then raise their chins high to show support.

They had fought too many battles alongside their lord to believe there was any other reason for the retreat.

Besides, they were all there to witness the goodbye that the duke had shared with the lady. Some moons had passed since, but the days since Chuck Bass had ridden out, with his lady in his arms, and returned empty-handed, were days when upon Norfolk descended a darkness from which there was no escape.

History would be written by the victor, and bards would tell a tale—of Norfolk's cowardice in the face of Baizen's wrath, of Baizen's wife Lady Blair's tale of infidelity for abandoning her husband for the invading lord.

Chuck Bass knew politics, and knew the stories that would be woven from his retreat. He had been a royal envoy once—Richard's representative in Italy—and could easily imagine the minstrels singing of his treachery in households far and yet. Yet behind the darkened shelter of the wagon, holding her as her pained tears tracked down her bruised face, he did not care for the ridicule or the false tales.

"My lord, you have a battle to fight," she protested.

His hand closed her hers. "All these months when I thought you gone, I have fought," Chuck related. Softly, he added, "Not today."

"Carter—"

"Banish him from your memory, Blair," he told her. In truth, for what the bastard had done to her, Chuck would hunt him to the ends of the earth and litter the ground with Baizen's innards. He itched for battle, to stare down Baizen at the tip of his sword and gut him from his throat to his gullet. "I will kill him myself." And he would watch the bastard's insides spill onto the dusty ground.

"No." Blair's hand tightened around his. "I want to do it myself."

Chuck let out a long breath, then nodded, only because he knew—blood would never stain the princess' hands.

Upon arrival at Norfolk, he lifted her from the measly comfort of the back of the wagon. In his arms she was fragile, no matter how many Carter Baizen's she could fend off, she would always be fragile to him. Even when she hissed and spat the way that she had done when she had first been taken by the Norfolk men, she had so soon worked his way under his skin that it was so easy to want to take care of her.

Baizen had touched her for the very last time.

There was no need to ask, and he suspected that Daniel had ridden ahead of them all to the village because there was a small gathering of villagers who murmured in surprise, whispered prayers to heaven when they saw the lady bundled in their lord's arms.

"What of Graystone, my lord, and the traitor Baizen?" called out a lad of eight.

Chuck had blocked all from his mind, but the question from such a young boy pierced through his brain. "What do you know of this war?"

The boy's chest puffed up and he proudly said, "My Da has told me. I am to become a soldier at your service, lord. The traitor Baizen has turned away from York and betrayed us all for wealth. You will kill him!"

She was restless in his hold, and struggled to her feet. She stood before the little boy, and grasped Chuck's arm as she bent to meet the child's eyes. Blair took the boy's hand and placed it near the tender bruise surrounding her cheekbone. With clear intent, she told the child, "Do not be mistaken, child. I shall be the one to end his miserable life."

"Blair," Chuck said softly. To the child, he said, "Baizen matters not on this day."

"Aye, lord," the boy stammered.

As they walked up the stone steps, and he offered to carry her, she was steadfast in her refusal. He saw the pain she suffered through each step, knew immediately that tonight she would burn with fever as her body healed from the punishment it had taken these past days.

"Lady Blair!"

Chuck turned to see his sister rush towards them and wrap her arms around the princess, who in turn hissed in pain. And even such a simple thing, he stored forefront in his head for the inevitable clash with Baizen.

"Serena," Blair gasped.

"You are alive and well," the blonde exclaimed. "I could not forgive myself when I thought you dead and gone, and know it was because of me."

Chuck's voice rumbled. "This is a matter we need not to speak of." He laid a hand on the small of her back and urged her, "You must rest."

She looked at the heart pinned to his mantle, then fixed her gaze on his. He walked with her and went directly to his chambers. The Gypsy was already inside, and a table was laid out beside her with jars and bottles, poultices and salves.

~o~o~o~o~

She had asked him to leave. Since she found him, it would be the first that he would leave.

He had not protested. Instead, he looked at the Gypsy and said, "You will call for me."

"Aye, milord," Vanessa replied.

Blair released a long stream of breath, watched as the Gypsy assessed the bruising on her face with a frown. Vanessa touched the edges of the bruise, then picked up a jaw of green cream that spelled faintly of mint. Blair hazarded a guess that it would be cool and refreshing against her skin.

She caught the Gypsy's wrist, then shook her head.

"My lady?" Vanessa asked in surprise.

"This is not what I need," Blair said urgently.

The Gypsy's brows furrowed, and then she asked, "What is it then, my lady? Is there more hurt elsewhere? We have potions to soothe your muscles. Daniel had told me of your escape on the horse. I have something to ease the tension on your thighs."

There was no doubt in her mind that she wanted what she did. But even so, a flush of shame crept into her cheeks. Blair threw a cursive look at the door, to ensure that it was no ajar. "No one else must know."

"Aye, lady."

Blair reached out a hand and held the Gypsy's hand. "Give me a potion to force my cycle," she said quietly.

Vanessa drew her hand away. "My lady, such potion has been forbidden by the priest."

"I care not!" Blair exclaimed. All her life she had been a most faithful servant of the church. She had attended the masses and given indulgence, lit a candle for every wish requested and granted. She had prayed the rosary until her knees bled and she was half-witted with thirst and hunger. "I want it."

"Do you carry a babe, milady?" Blair turned away. "I need to know. If you carry a babe, such potion may kill you as it will kill the babe."

"Three days ago, my husband forced himself on me. I want him out of my life. I want nothing to come 'round to bring me back to that hell," she whispered.

"If you know not, my lady, we can still wait. Three days—"

"Now, Vanessa. I shall not forgive myself if I take the potion knowing of a child," she half-sobbed. "I wish to know nothing of it."

The Gypsy still appeared uncertain as she managed. "Lady, you spent hours in the chapel praying for the duke when he met your brother. Certainly, this is one request you wish to pray on."

Blair closed her eyes, and lowered her head. And then, she heard the Gypsy gasp and protest. Blair clutched at the side of the duke's bed, and found herself on her knees.

"Princess," Vanessa cried, scandalized by the sight of a born princess kneeling in front of her. "Princess, please rise."

Blair shook her head, and swore this would be the first and the last time she would demean herself. Yet still, she reached for Vanessa's hand, and brushed a kiss on her knuckles, on hands far rougher than her own. "I beg you," she whispered. "Three days the fear of a child curling in my womb has left me numb with terror. I do not wish to abhor an innocent soul. And I will abhor any child borne of that night."

"I have no potion such as that in my keeping, lady."

Blair sobbed. Her brains searched for another way. Surely there were others who concocted the potion. In Calais, the same was peddled freely in fairs at the guise of helping a woman's flow. Tomorrow she would go. Battered as her body was from travel, surely she could escape for an afternoon to travel to the nearest village, and she would find it there.

"But I will make you one," Blair heard from the Gypsy's lips. "I do not want you to find it from anyone else. Potions are dangerous if not prepared with care."

"Thank you!" the princess exclaimed. She pressed a kiss of gratitude on the back of the Gypsy's hand.

"Now rise, princess. It sits ill with me to see you so humbled."

~o~o~o~o~

"I never wished to fight," Chuck heard Nathaniel's voice.

He had been waiting far too long to catch Nathaniel unaware. His Archibald cousin had been the one to almost kill him with poison, almost killed Blair when she saved him from that certain death. It was he who had taken Serena and forced the scales of balance for Henry, when Chuck had been convinced that he would never give the princess up.

Spill, he thought. One hint that he was as loyal to Tudor as Chuck suspected, and he would no longer need to live with Nathaniel's presence. He despised the man's presence in his castle, but since Nathaniel and the Humphrey girl arrived, Nathaniel had done nothing amiss.

Chuck's men had started to admire him.

"My family had raised me to be a king," he said softly. "When they brought her inside, in Harcourt, every last one of Henry's nobles, every one of the ladies there, adored her. And she was blind to all of it the way she wept for your brother."

Chuck held his breath, then squinted at the silhouette with Nathaniel. And he recognized—Serena.

"I never wished to fight, and she did not wish to be so revered. And I saw myself in her." Nathaniel's voice hitched. "She died. My king told me she had died, and I knew I would fight by your brother's side. For a lifetime and it would not be enough."

"Nate," Chuck heard his sister speak, "if you do not wish to fight, lay down your arms."

"She's alive," Nathaniel whispered back.

"She's alive and there is nothing to repay," she told him. "You did your duty to your king. You have worked to serve the duke against your will. There is nothing more honorable."

Chuck stepped forward and saw the moment that his sister reached up to pull Nathaniel for a kiss.

"Serena," Nathaniel breathed, "how can you forgive me?"

His sister rested her cheek against the Lancastrian's doublet. "I have loved you since we were little children, Nathaniel."

"Your brother—"

"He will understand. He will see Blair, and he will understand us," Serena assured the man.

Chuck turned away, stalked back towards his chambers. The door opened, and he stepped aside to allow the Gypsy to pass. When he moved to enter, she called to him softly.

"Milord."

Chuck turned to Vanessa, and noticed the urgent plea in her eyes. He closed the door. "How fares the princess?"

"Speak to her, milord."

"I will."

"I fear for her."

Chuck paused. "Is she ill?"

She shook her head, appearing confused at the question that he posed. "Her body will heal," the Gypsy assured him.

"Then all is well."

"Milord, her husband—"

Chuck raised his hand in a gesture for silence, his jaw tensed, his gaze focused on her. "It will not be said. Not in Norfolk."

Vanessa hung her head, drew her shawl up over her shoulders, then turned towards the steps. Sir Daniel walked up the steps, nodded to his lord, and Chuck nodded back grimly. Vanessa walked over to the knight.

Chuck watched closely when the Gypsy opened her arms and drew the knight into a close embrace. The duke had seen the two meet, and speak, walk away. Daniel himself had informed him of the affair. Yet never once had the Gypsy shown affection for the man in front of witnesses. Until now.

"Vanessa," Chuck said again.

The Gypsy turned her head, and he saw the turmoil and the tears that laced her eyes.

"No one will know."

She nodded, then looped her arm around Sir Daniel's.

Chuck opened the door and stepped inside. He walked forward towards where she lay in the tub, her head resting back, her eyes closed. He knelt beside the tub and dipped the tip of his fingers in the water. It was hot, and it pleased him. There was nothing better than heat to allow tensed, bruised muscles to heal.

She opened her eyes, and his moved to meet the lucid brown pair. Blair did not speak. She sat up on the tub and folded her arms across her chest.

His eyes fell to the bruising on her arms. He reached out to touch the mark, then ran his thumb over her skin to trace the pattern. She shivered.

"I trust you," she whispered. His heart clenched at the sound. "I trust you," she repeated. "I trust you, Chuck."

And he understood. They were not words for him, but for herself.

"I trust you," she repeated.

He reached a tentative hand and held a lock of wet hair. He pushed it behind her ear. His eyes flickered once again, because of that ugly bruise that stood so raw and proud that it mocked him with the truth that another man had dared to hurt her. "Princess," he said.

Softly, she replied, "Never call me a princess again."

"But you are."

She shook her head. "I do not feel like a princess." Her cut lip, once dried, had loosened with the steam of the bath. The blood blossomed on the cut.

He sucked in his breath, leaned close, ran his thumb across her lip to wipe the blood away. "You will heal."

"Chuck, I do not wish to be a princess anymore."

He leaned forward, his doublet darkening with the bathwater. He pressed his lips under her eyes. "You will be a duchess," he vowed. "And we will have children running wild in this castle, and it will be loud with laughter."

Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I am another man's wife. Any child I have with you will be bastard-born, as am I." He took a wash cloth and rubbed it with soap, then dipped it in the water. And then, softly so he would not hurt her, he washed the expanse of her back. "I will not have a child to suffer through the indignity of a birth such as mine. This world is not ours, the bastard-born," she said.

He pressed his lips on her wet shoulder. She was worth than any noblewoman he had lain with, and he had only tasted her once. He swore upon his father's grave, nothing that Henry ever did would stand in their way. "Baizen will die," he promised. "And we will be free."

The intensity of his passion translated to his voice. He could hear the rough edge to his words. She nodded, and he leaned close. Chuck held the nape of her neck with one hand, and he hungrily took her mouth. She met his kiss, parting her lips underneath. Her tongue wrapped around his willingly. Her dripping hands rose to clutch at his shoulders.

It had been far, far too long.

"Blair," he moaned. He would rein himself in, while her body healed. But her very presence in his chambers drove him near madness. His lips trailed a burning path down her throat. "Duchess," he whispered, thrilling at the very title coming his lips. "My Blair."

She hummed in her chest. "I missed you," she breathed. His tongue darted to capture the moisture that gathered in the hollow of her throat.

And then he felt her hand push at his chest.

"Chuck, no—"

He blinked at her, bleary-eyed. For a moment he had forgotten, and once he remembered he caught himself. He ached for her—a half year had gone by since he had last buried himself inside her, even longer since he had last tasted any other. Through the months since he had lost her he had tried to lose himself in every other—whores and ladies, both—and he had never been able to rise for anyone except for her.

When he woke his body in solitude, dreaming of his lost princess, of her hands, of her hot sheath.

"Not yet." And her voice was firm, insistent, controlled. "Not until I bleed."

It was harsh reality dumped over his head as he realized what she meant.

Her hand cupped his cheek, and her eyes intent on his. "And I will bleed," she swore.

As sure as she would, Chuck would see Baizen's own life drip from the tip of his sword.

"Only your seed will grow inside me," she vowed. "My destiny is decided by no man, no power, no law."

"If you bear his babe—"

She stopped him with a wet hand over his mouth. "Speak not of things so foul I shudder at the very thought. I will never bear his child. I will die before his spawn grows within me."

The utter desperation behind the words was not shielded, and he could read it from the very first. Chuck's hand dipped under the water. He laid his palm on her belly. He whispered into her ear, "Then let me love you. I will bury my seed so deeply it will grow. If you bear a child, we will tell the world it is Norfolk's heir and no other's." She shook her head. "I will be gentle," he said soothingly. "But I will take this fear from you."

"No," she said softly. "I will bleed, Chuck. Within a fortnight you shall see. I will bleed, and any child I bear is yours."

tbc


	15. Chapter 15

AN: Sidenote. Since I started writing GG fanfic, I have never written more sex scenes in my entire life. And I have written a ton more fics than what is here in ffnet. I am shocking myself. Back to the regularly scheduled fic…

Part 15

Blair sat through supper at the hall, in a thanksgiving feast for the safe return of the Norfolk men. Even without their having seen battle, Chuck Bass had decided to throw the banquet as thanks that none of his men fell. In these harsh times, any venture outside the castle walls was dangerous. Until Norfolk pledged fealty to the new king, his knights were at risk tenfold of death.

The conversation was lively, and she managed to laugh at times at the witty banter of the soldiers. It had been reminiscent of the arguments she used to have with Henry, when he was not yet groomed to be king, and they spoke like siblings over a fine meal. This time, it seemed, Sir Daniel and Lord Archibald had a jovial verbal parry discussing Jenny Humphrey's attraction to the latter.

Blair gasped at the sight of her maid entering the dining hall with a trencher of mutton.

"Jenny!" she cried.

"My lady!" Jenny returned, dropping the viand with a clatter, much to the audible dismay of the knights. The younger woman rushed to the princess and dropped to her knees in a deep curtsy. She lowered her head and took Blair's hand in hers, then showered it with kisses.

Blair glanced at Sir Daniel, who nodded and gave her a small smile. Blair drew Jenny up and rose to her feet, then placed a kiss on each of her maid's cheeks.

"I had thought you dead, my lady," Jenny sobbed. "It is a miracle to see you alive. God bless the king!"

Chuck stiffened, and the men at the table grunted in displeasure. Nathaniel, who heard the maid's exclamation, whispered loudly, "We talked about this Jenny."

"But my princess is alive. The king must have done something!" she protested.

"Jenny," Blair interrupted urgently, so take the maid's mind away from her question. "You work here in Norfolk?"

The maid nodded. "You told me to reunite with my brother, just before I thought you passed."

Blair spared a glance at the duke. Chuck waved his hand. "Would you like to serve the lady again, Jenny Humphrey?" he asked.

"More than anything, your grace, I wish to serve the princess," Jenny gasped.

"Then so you shall serve her. You have your maid, duchess," Chuck said pointedly, mindful of Blair's request. He would speak to the priest. In the eyes of God, if not the king and the church, there must be a way to recognize her as his lady.

Jenny bowed to the duke, and then to Blair. "I will be in your chambers, my lady," she advised.

"Nonsense." Blair gestured to the seat beside Daniel. "Come dine with us, drink to your brother's courage."

Hesitantly, Jenny took her place beside Daniel, who wrapped an arm around his sister and gave her best wishes.

"Jenny, where is Cat?"

"Here, my lady." She stood. "I shall retrieve him at once."

Blair shook her head and gestured for her to finish her meal. She looked up when Vanessa strode into the hall. The Gypsy approached Blair and opened her hand. Blair looked down at the small dark vial on the Gypsy's palm. Devoid of reluctance she reached for it.

Blair felt Chuck's eyes on her.

"You can wait, my lady, until you know you need it."

Blair poured the contents into her wine glass. She took the glass and excused herself. She heard another chair slide noisily against the floor.

"Sit down, Jenny."

Blair looked out of the window while she brought the goblet up to her lips and tipped the contents into her mouth—the stale thin wine hid none of the taste of the bitter potion. She set the goblet down by the window and walked to the chest, retrieved the clean rags used for just this purpose. Her movements were number, dispassionate. She placed the cloths between her legs, then settled her body on the bed, lying on her side so she could watch the sky through the open window.

Her throat closed when she felt the potion work its way insider her. She did not stir when a body lay behind her. Chuck's hand covered her belly with his warm palm. And then he asked, "Does it pain you?"

She sniffled, shook her head. "There is no pain," she whispered, yet she cried.

His hands moved in soothing circles and she closed her eyes. That night, she had her flow. His hand massaged her through the cramps that followed.

In the morning, he woke her to attend mass. Blair accepted the red mantle he draped across her shoulders and walked with her to the chapel. He led her to the front pew, reserved for the Bass family. When the priest held mass, and held up the bread in solemn ceremony, she hung her head and silently she cried.

She felt his hand rest on the small of her back. Blair closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

It was after the mass that the priest walked down to her and kissed her forehead. "I can see your pain, child."

"I live in sin," she whispered. "And I will live in sin willingly to stay with him, padre."

"Pray and repent," the priest suggested.

She shook her head. "It is the true mark of a sinner, but I am afraid I will not regret any moment of this."

Two weeks passed. The bleeding stopped a long time since, and the constant fear of Henry's wrath had lightened, but never left. And she lived as a sinner. Often she could pretend now, and the whole of Norfolk joined in the pretense, that she was his wife—not another man's.

In the eyes of the church she was diving headlong towards hell. And still she could find nothing in her heart or her mind that told her to stop.

She walked out to the village, on Chuck's arm, and picked fruits for the table. She spied the pear for sale and plucked one from the top. Blair paid the small coin for the fruit, and walked with him towards the center of the village. With a smile, she held it up to him, the way he offered her the fruit in the fair before he was poisoned by Archibald's man.

"Tell me if it's good," she suggested.

He bit into the fruit, then licked the juice that dribbled to her fingers. She held her breath at the sensation of his tongue teasing her wrist. "Sweet," he said, her very response taken from her tongue.

"Is it really?" she whispered.

"I do not lie." Chuck settled his hands on her waist and pulled her to him, then placed his lips over hers. Blair tasted the fruit on his lips, his tongue.

"It is sweet," she agreed.

He drew her close to him, pressed sweetly against his body. Since her return, when he had knelt by her in her bath, he had come so forward until then. Blair found herself pressing just as close. "Blair," he said, his voice hoarse and quiet. She looked up at him, and noticed him looking around them. She cleared her throat and pulled away briefly, then glanced at their surroundings, where the villagers watched their lord and the lady with amusement.

Blair flushed, and wondered how anyone could be embarrassed in heaven.

Sir Rufus arrived that day, bearing a white cloth on his armor. She walked to the castle gates with Chuck. When the man-at-arms saw her, he gave her a deep bow. He then turned to Chuck, "If I may speak with you, your grace."

Blair said firmly, with an air of arrogance she could never shed. "It is my business you will discuss," she told the knight. "I shall stay."

Chuck nodded, then told Rufus. "Speak. There is no secret we keep from the lady."

"I come bearing a warning and an ultimatum."

"Henry is fond of ultimatums," Chuck said, remembering Nathaniel's tale of Henry's demand—that Blair's return be before he wed Elizabeth of York. Henry knew how to achieve his own deadlines, no matter what it took.

Rufus continued, looking at the duke. "His forces will bar down on Norfolk unless the princess is returned to her husband."

And the words made her wince. When anyone spoke of Baizen, she could not bear to call him husband. "You may forget, sir knight," she said, her voice cold. "I was not taken from Greystone. I abandoned Baizen and fled here."

Rufus' voice was warm and patient when he told her, "In the eyes of the king, you are held against your will."

"Only by the man he chose for me," she said.

"My lady, the business of politics and the kingdom—"

"Is not for a woman," she finished for him. Blair had heard it often enough. "But this is my life, Sir Rufus. Not politics. I shall never return."

The man-at-arms turned to the duke. "Do you harbor the princess then, Norfolk? I will know your stand."

She turned fractured eyes to the duke. If he admitted that he provided her sanctuary, it was treason. If he did not, she returned to Carter Baizen. She stilled herself. If she were to be returned to Carter to save Norfolk, she would do all she could to survive. "You wish to save your people," she said softly, for him, ensuring that he would not need to think twice about his decision. "I respect that."

Chuck frowned at her, then pulled her up against him, in full view of the Tudor man. "Lady Blair is home. And she will be duchess of Norfolk once I face Carter in battle."

The threat was clear. "Then, Norfolk," Sir Rufus said, "it is truly war." He bowed to Blair, because despite it all, she was still his princess that he had failed to protect from the violence of her marriage bed. "Princess, how fare you?"

Her voice softened. "Is it you who ask, or is it Harry?"

"I ask."

She gave him the faintest of smiles. "I am well, Sir Rufus. For the first time since I was born, I am happy where I am." She felt the arm around her tighten, and she smiled up at Chuck.

"And Henry, should he ask?"

And he would. Despite her brother's thousand flaws, no one would fault him for not loving his sister. His flaw was he loved England more.

"I am dead to the king," she responded, her message clear. "He killed me in Harcourt, did he not? There is nothing for him to retrieve in Norfolk."

When Rufus left, Chuck called for Sir Daniel, Lord Archibald and his brother Eric. In his chambers the men gathered. He would break the news to them. This time, it would be Norfolk under attack. Sooner or later it would have happened. Carter had told her of it, of Chuck's berserker attacks on any and all Lancastrian and Tudor keeps on his path. Yet this time, it hung heavy on her shoulders that the Tudor army would crush the castle and the village for her. The duke invited her to join, but instead she went to her own chambers and was greeted by Jenny Humphrey, who held Cat.

Blair sat on the edge of the bed, then took her pet into her arms and held Cat close to her heart. "Jenny," she said, "you have lived so short a life. Have you been happy?"

The maid smiled uncertainly up at her. She settled at Blair's feet. "I have served you. I am honored."

"If this was the last day of your life," Blair asked, reaching forward and cupping the girl's cheek, "who would you want to spend it with?"

Jenny's eyes narrowed, then her eyebrows furrowed in her confusion. "I would serve you until the day I die, my lady."

Blair sighed, then lay back in her bed. Cat jumped from her arms and onto the floor. She raised herself up on her elbow. "When I thought I was dying, I was afraid. Because I would have died with the regret of not being with my lord," she told her maid.

"You told me, my lady," Jenny replied humbly. "You wished you were here, in the traitor's castle."

Blair laughed softly. "Will you not call him a traitor, Jenny?" she asked.

"If you wish, my lady."

"The question is," Blair said, "if you die today, will you die with no regrets? Have you done all that you wished? Do the people you love know that you love them?"

"Why do you ask me this, my lady?" Jenny shook her head. "Do you wish to strike terror in my heart?"

Blair sat up. "Is there terror in your heart?"

"Aye," Jenny replied.

Blair's lips thinned. "Then you are not ready."

"I am sixteen. I am not ready."

Blair rose from her bed, then rushed to her chest. She drew out the small pouch that she had salvaged when she fled Greystone. Blair handed the pouch to her maid. "It is not much," she said. "But you must take it and flee."

"Why do you keep telling me to leave you, my lady? My joy is to serve you."

Blair kept her voice firm, and she told the maid. "Because you still have a life to live. Hurry, Jenny. The Tudor army is upon us, and they will not hesitate to kill us."

"The Tudors are not our enemy, princess."

"There is no constant enemy, no constant friend," Blair informed her maid. "You will learn this over time. And you will need that time." Blair looked out the window, and she imagined the faintest glow coming from the north. "You will take my horse. She's quick, and she will take care of you."

Jenny gasped when Blair opened the door and pulled her outside. At the same time, the duke's chamber doors opened. Blair saw the sullen faces of the three men with Chuck, but her eyes went immediately to the duke.

He nodded. Blair turned to Sir Daniel, and said, "You were right. I've brought Henry to Norfolk."

"You brought Jenny to Norfolk too," Daniel returned.

Lord Nathaniel slid away, and Blair followed him with her eyes. To her surprise, he knocked on the chamber door next to her. When it opened, he fell to his knee and asked, "Will you wed me, before the night is over?"

Serena gaped at the lord, then her scared eyes rose to meet her brother's. Chuck cleared his throat. "Do you want the man, Serena?" Chuck asked. "I will not stand in your way."

Blair could scarcely watch the joy as Serena told Nathaniel just how much she would adore being his wife.

"Lady Blair," Eric said, "I have never apologized to you, for what I have done."

She shook her head. "You meant harm, but you turned out an angel," she told him.

It sent a sinking feeling in her stomach, that everyone should want so much to wrap up all the things they had left unsaid, and all those they had left undone. "Chuck," she told the duke, when he pulled her to him and closed the door behind her, "tomorrow, it is war."

"Aye," he agreed. He cupped her face with his hands, and pressed a sweet, searching kiss on her lips. "And I have never told you I loved you."

Her lips curved under his. "I had not realized."

"I love you," he said. It only took the half year apart, and the false knowledge that she was gone, but he returned the proclamation she had sobbed at him when he rode away from her all those moons ago.

"If I should die tomorrow," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, hanging on to him as if her life depended on his warmth, "I would that you were the last man inside me."

He kissed her, like tomorrow was the end of the world. Chuck carried her to the bed where they had first made love, where she had first tasted what it felt like to have a man inside you, where she came close to dying, where she had come alive.

His hands were gentle when he pushed away at her clothes. When she lay naked under him, he worshipped her body with kisses and then lightest touch.

She parted her legs willingly for him, and like the time before, he made love to her with his mouth, and she crashed from his tongue and from the sweetest of his kiss. He aligned his body to hers, and Blair drew him down for a kiss. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut when he felt him prodding at her opening, because try as she might, she could not forget the tearing pain from the last time a man did the same.

She opened her eyes when she did not feel him surge forward. "I trust you," she said.

Chuck raised himself up and off her, then lay back on the bed. Blair raised herself up on her elbow and looked down at him, the curtain of her brown hair falling over them. He helped her climb on top of him. "Straddle me, like you did the horse." Blair bit on her lower lip, then did as he asked. She felt his naked body press up against her opening. She grasped his shoulders and gasped.

"What should I do?" she whispered.

"Anything."

Blair flexed her hips, and felt his manhood stir under her, rising to poke at her, sending lightning sensation through her nerves. She laid her upper body over his and kissed his chin.

"That's good," he rasped. She rotated her hips. "Very good."

He buried his fingers in her hair. Blair lifted her hips and turned it like honey. His member grew harder, more insistent against her. "Hmmmm," she murmured.

"What do you want, duchess?" he breathed, the title an endearment now. "Tell me and I will do it."

His plea gave her such power, and Blair felt the control pulsing through her veins. She blinked back tears. From one Yorkist to another, and it was a universe of difference. "Thank you." She squirmed lower, and caught his nipple between her teeth. She saw his throat working as he swallowed.

"Touch me," she requested.

He sighed, relieved. His left hand gingerly cupped her breast and massaged the globe. His thumb flicked the nipple. She released a tremulous breath.

His right hand dipped and cupped her sex. Blair met his eyes, then very slowly, she nodded. Her eyes rolled back in her head when his finger dipped inside her. She tensed, and he reminded her it was not an assault when he pressed a gentle kiss on the corner of her lips. And then slid another finger and slowly pumped them in and out.

She whispered a prayer of gratitude, and she hoped that God heeded prayers from sinners.

Blair melted above him. She drenched his hand with a hot fluid, then blinked up at him. "I love you."

"I want you inside me," she said softly.

"Guide me," he told her.

And it was completely in her hands. Blair blew at a lock of her dark hair that had fallen over her face. The lock of hair flopped back down, and she blew it again. Chuck reached up and pushed the hair behind her ear. He held her as she lifted herself up on her knees. He sucked in his breath when she grasped him in her hand and guided him to her opening.

Her lips parted as she sank her body onto him, but she held his gaze. He entered her ever so slowly. Tears rose in her eyes at the exquisite pleasure of the entry. And then he was inside her, and she was full. Blair's hips rose and fell, for a brief moment the movement was awkward. He locked his jaw to prevent himself from grasping her hips and controlling the speed, the depth.

"You are doing so well," he choked out, sweat blossoming on his forehead.

He slid inside her, and she noticed that he looked to be in pain. Blair quickened her movement and released harsh guttural breaths. Faster and faster, she moved, taking him in and out of her body. Chuck threw his head back and of their own volition, his hips drew back and up, meeting her thrusts with his. And then her vision exploded. Her muscles clenched and gripped him tightly, until he spewed a hot rush of his seed inside her, an endless stream, draining himself for the past half year that he could not bury himself in a woman.

She collapsed against his chest, and she could feel the warm trail of his seed dripping from her. Even as she lay exhausted against him, she could feel the endless spurts as he emptied himself into her.

Very gently, he lifted her up off of him. His body slipped out of her wetly, and Blair settled boneless beside him on the bed. She closed her legs tightly together to keep as much of his essence inside her body. And then she felt the blanket cover her cooling body as he settled in behind her.

tbc

.


	16. Chapter 16

AN: I have work. I am already late. Lol. But I needed to post this. Let me know :-)

Part 16

The mark of a sinner is more than the sin.

Her lips curved, and she buried her fingers in his hair when he nuzzled his nose in the underside of her breast. Blair's lips parted as her breath left her in successive gasps of pleasure. Her eyebrows furrowed as she drowned in sensation.

She was a sinner, to lie with another man. And she regretted nothing. Repented nothing.

Surely this meant she would burn in hell.

A sob caught in her throat. And then slowly, his head rose and she met his eyes, dark with concern. "Blair?" he prompted, his voice low. He was naked as he lay on top of her, with only the thin blanket thrown over his hips shielding him from view.

As naked as she.

They were sinners both, and poised at the end of their world, there was not much time to repent even if that was their will.

"I am taking you with me to the gates of hell," she whispered. "You are much too good of a man to burn."

He was quiet then. Chuck Bass lay on his back on the bed they shared and looked up at the ceiling. Without his warmth covering her, she shivered at the cold. He silently pulled her against him. Finally, he said, "But if this were the last day of my life, I would spend it with you."

Another man's wife.

The chapel was quiet at the hour, the night providing a blanket of blackness. Chuck held her hand, but she pulled away when they entered and stepped into onto the aisle. He urged her to hold up her head. "There is no shame in you and me," he told her.

She refused to meet his eyes. Instead, her gaze focused on the figure on the cross. Serena and Nathaniel were to wed that night, and she knew, it would be the last cause for celebration that Norfolk would see in a good while. And the village would not even know.

"Can you face Him without shame, my lord, perchance you fall tomorrow?"

His eyes flickered. His fingers reached for the pocket of his doublet, and drew out from right above his heart a string of beads. She recognized them as her rosary, left in the chapel when he surrendered her. "I have kept this with me since you were gone," he admitted. "I shall face Him without shame. I loved. That is my sin. And it is no real sin."

He stood by Lord Nathaniel, on the right hand, and she by Lady Serena, on the left, at the porch of the chapel. The priest walked towards them, and held up his hands with palms open towards the black sky.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together in the sight of God to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony, an honorable estate instituted of God in Paradise—"

Blair's eyes closed at the words. She had heard them before, once upon a time, in a nightmare of seclusion when she had thought herself alone in the world, and she was wed to the man she willing sinned against tonight.

She barely heard the rest of the words. Yet still she found herself raising her head, her gaze seeking his. The duke looked back at her in quiet solemnity.

The priest continued, "Wilt thou have this Woman to be thy wedded wife? Wilt thou love, comfort, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Aloud, it was Lord Nathaniel who spoke, "I will."

In her heart, she heard Chuck's voice when he nodded. _"I will."_

And the same question was asked, of Serena this time, and she took the priest's words to heart. For the first time, she listened, and allowed the words to wash over her. When Serena responded, Blair mouthed, for the duke to see, "I will."

The priest gestured for the two to face each other. Serena reached her right hand for Nathaniel's right, and each followed after the priest.

"I take thee, Serena, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer—"

His voice drifted away for her, and in her mind, it was to Chuck Bass that she vowed, "—for fairer or fouler, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death us depart. I plight thee my troth."

Her eyes followed his movement as he walked away from the lord that his sister wed. Blair felt the tears that rose in her eyes when he settled behind her and wrap his arms around her. She looked up at the priest, out of a Catholic guilt that could not leave her even as she tried.

"Death cannot part us," he said into her ear. "We triumphed over death once. We shall do so again."

She brushed the tears from her cheeks when Nathaniel and Serena exchanged rings. The priest's voice still overwhelming all. "Bless these Rings that those who wear them, that give and receive them, may be ever faithful to one another—"

Blair slid the ring off of her finger and dropped it at her feet, sending the gold band clattering on the floor. With her unadorned hand, she reached behind her and cupped his cheek. She turned her face to him and pressed a kiss on his cheek. There was no ring, but he was there so close, and if they sinned they would sin grandly with no regrets. She whispered, and knew the priest would hear. Yet even more, Chuck would hear.

She had not sworn it, in that rushed marriage that the king had initiated for her. She was required to say "Aye" when prompted. But the words had meaning now, and she said them all to the only man she meant them for, "—I thee wed. With my body I thee honor. With all my worldly goods—" and now it meant nothing, because Carter had them all, but still she said the words "—I thee endow."

Blair turned in his arms, set her jaw, and took a deep breath. The next words would be a measure of her strength, a test of her resolve. There was no other way she could think to end it all. And so she said, showing the duke and the priest that she had made her decision with a clear and present mind, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Ghost."

Chuck drew her into his embrace. Over her shoulder he met the priest's eyes. In the background, Serena and Nathaniel were pronounced as man and wife, and invited inside to partake in a communion. Tonight, at the verge of battle and their wedded life, they would be cleansed of their sins by the Body of Christ.

And wallowing in their sin, Chuck and Blair could not. "I swear to you, Blair, I will wed you in the face of God," he promised, kissing her tears away from her cheeks.

He glanced at his sister and the Lancastrian, and saw them share a goblet of wine. By the altar, Serena and Nathaniel knelt, and Chuck heard their voices, "Our father who art in heaven—"

"Come," he enjoined Blair. "We will await the dawn, and your brother's army, from our chambers."

And they did. With the windows thrown open, they lay abed and watched as one flicker of light from the direction of Greystone turned two, then ten, then a hundred, until it was too many to count. The lights came in its silent announcement of the enemy's arrival. She walked towards the windows, and he followed.

She shed her clothes and divested him of his. He came into her from behind, and she gripped the sill and bent over, gasping as he entered her from the back. He was slow and cautious as he moved inside her. She turned her head to look at his face, and saw the shadows cast by the lights the Tudors carried.

She wept when she came, and she grasped behind her so she could clutch at his shoulders. "I love you," she heard him say into her nape. Behind the words, she heard his goodbye.

Surely, she thought, love cannot be a sin.

~o~o~o~o~o~

Serena held Blair's hand as they watched from the ramparts when the men rode out. Not far from them, the Gypsy stood in solitude as she held up her shawl to cover herself. Jenny was gone, at the break of dawn. Blair had sent her maid away despite the protests of the young girl.

She had a life to live.

Blair, Serena and Vanessa remained. There was no world out there. Not anymore. They would live and die by the outcome of the battle. To that point, Blair had chosen the most somber and plain of the clothing she had been offered. And then, deliberately, she threaded the colors of York into her plaited hair, the white ribbon braided through the locks.

When war broke into the gates of Norfolk, she would that the Tudor men decide on her life as the mistress of Norfolk—and not as Henry's sister.

The battle broke before them, and her eyes were caught on the figure of her duke. So close to the walls the armies clashed that the ramparts shuddered under them. Blair took shallow, unsteady breaths as the battle raged. For split seconds she lost sight of Chuck, and for those moments she would not breathe.

"Where is Nathaniel?" Serena cried in panic.

Blair blinked at the exclamation. She scanned the fray for the Lancastrian. "What mantle was he wearing?" she asked softly.

"A blue one," Serena said. "I made it from my own."

Yet she could not find the Lancastrian, and then she was selfish, and all she could think was to look again for her own lord. Blair's heart jumped to her throat when she next scanned the dispute and lost track of Chuck. She gripped at the stones and turned her gaze frantically all over.

"Where is he?"

And then she saw him, astride his horse, in the thick of the battle, right into the Tudor front where he had no call to be. The lord did not charge first, did not enter headlong where he would be in danger. And then she spotted the man in the direction that Chuck seemed intent on going.

Carter.

From his side, in an effort to protect the Lord of Greystone, a foot soldier charged at the duke. Chuck drew his sword at the man. Blair saw the two Tudor knights flank Chuck and thrust at the same time. She almost screamed in warning. And that was when she saw him fall.

Blair turned around and fled to the keep. She heard Serena cry her name, but she did not stop. She entered her chambers and pulled out the pack she had brought with her from Greystone. Blair tucked the dagger into her belt. The weapon had served her well, saved her from Carter when she needed it. And then, she drew out the narrow blade that had intrigued her so, the misericordia. It ended pain, provided a merciful death.

She ran out of the castle gates. Blair threw herself against the wall when a horse charged by her. She caught the reins of the gelding. Jenny had her horse now, and this would do.

"Blair, come back inside!" she heard the pitiful cry from the rafters.

She blocked out Serena's voice, the kicked the horse into a gallop, charging towards where she had seen Chuck last.

And then she spotted them. Chuck stood over Carter with the tip of his sword held under his chin. Blair watched dispassionately as the blood dribbled from the cut and disappeared into the neck of his armor.

"My wife," Carter hissed, "come to say goodbye."

Chuck's head whipped towards Blair, and she saw him take in the surroundings as if noticing for the first time. There was fear in his eyes, fear for her, for her presence in the thick of the battle. And then he turned to Carter. "Do not speak to her. Do not look at her."

Carter scowled, but did not move with the blade stuck near his throat. "I care not for your whore. I have her lands. But the king demands that I retrieve her."

"I will die before you take her!"

Blair saw the slow pump of blood coming from a wound on Chuck's thigh, noted the way he wavered where he stood. If she could see it, so could Carter.

"This battle is not because of a mere woman, Bass. This is about a kingdom that you ravage at every turn," spat the kneeling man. "Your people will die because you are so unwilling to accept—the reign of York is long over."

"Norfolk laid siege to no keep since Blair returned to us," Chuck said softly.

And he had fought, over and over, he told her, from the moment he thought her dead.

"How long before you've had your fill of her, Bass? How long I have you ramming at my gates?"

She saw him falter on his feet from the loss of blood. Chuck blinked away the dizziness, and Blair grasped at the dagger on her belt. When Carter pushed away at the sword with his armored elbows, Chuck stumbled to his arms and knees.

Carter faced her, and Blair drew out her dagger. He glanced at the weapon. "There's my old friend," Carter commented, remembering their last day together. "You are coming home, wife."

Blair did not run, because Chuck was defenseless on the ground. She held her breath as Carter approached her. And then she saw Carter jerk, his eyes widen in shock. And then she fell in front of her, in a gurgling heap on the ground.

Blair looked wide-eyed at Chuck gripping his bloody sword in his hand. He stumbled to his knees. Blair stepped over Carter and caught him up in her arms. But he was himself too heavy, laden with his armor impossible to support. She fell to her knees with him.

"Daniel!" she cried to no direction in particular. "Lord Archibald!"

Chuck lay heavy against her, pale, his lips bloodless. She pressed kisses on his face, grateful that he would save her with the last of his strength. "Eric!"

No help came from his men, and she assumed they were engulfed in their own small battles. And then a knight came to her rescue, knelt before her with a red rose on his crest. She looked up in fear. Upon recognition, he held up his hand to silence her. He pointed to the clearing, behind the tents.

"No one will find you there."

He supported the duke by hefting him up over his shoulders. Blair reached up and made to follow.

"Wait." She turned and saw Carter, blood trickling from the corner of his lips. She held her breath as she glared at him. She needed to follow Rufus, needed to know that Chuck was safe. "Use it." Blair glanced down at the misericordia. "End it," he demanded. "I will not bleed to my death."

Her eyes narrowed. She grasped the hilt of the weapon.

"Do not let me die like this. The bastard," Carter spat, "knew what he was doing. He should have finished me off." He reached out his hand. She stepped away. "One thrust, Blair. Right between the armor plates. Make it quick and painless."

She gave him a grim smile. "You know not what pleasure it will bring me to end your life."

Carter gurgled, a sigh of relief. He winced at the pain. Blair saw the blood that pooled from under him grow thicker, darker.

"But not as much if I do not," Blair finished. She picked up her skirt and hurried off to the tents, to guard her lord until his knights could find them.

tbc


	17. Chapter 17

AN: We are almost at an end. You all were lovely throughout.

Part 17

Not far from them the world burned, or so it seemed. She blinked away the tears that gathered in her eyes at the smoke.

"Chuck!" she cried, shaking his shoulder to rouse him. "Chuck, you must open your eyes." Blair jumped in surprise at a blood-curdling scream close to them, just on the other side of the tent. "My lord, Norfolk burns!" she said frantically. If there was anything that would wake him, it would be fear for his beloved people.

The gold and diamond heart pinned to his mantle was dulled by dried blood, and she took his hand in hers. His blood had crusted on his skin, and she could not held but think that he had clutched at his wound, and then her heart.

"Blair!" came the piercing scream that she recognized as Carter's angry voice. "Blair!"

She shuddered. A flaming arrow whirred above her head, and she flung her body on top of the duke's. Carter called her name in his pain, a rabid exclamation that shred the thick smoke. Only several yards away her husband now twisted in throbbing pain.

"Kill me, you whore!" he yelled. Blair squeezed her eyes shut at the pained screams of the madman. "Bass, you bastard, kill me!"

Blair held tightly to Chuck's body. She reached beside her for the misericordia that lay now to her side. She had sinned against Carter, even with what he had done to her. She had lain with another man while she was married to him. Perhaps she could give him this one last wish. Her gut wrenched at the thought of the blood that she would have in her hands.

She could not kill a man.

Yet could she sleep in the night when his screams of pain would haunt her forever?

Blair breathed harshly, looked down at Chuck's bloodied and grimy face, and then pressed her lips on his slack ones. She looked around her, and it seemed impossibly that they were safe in the hiding place that Rufus had chosen.

"I shall return," she whispered. Blair took off her mantle and folded it, then placed it under the duke's head. With all her might she ripped at her skirt, then with the strip bound the duke's thigh tied to stem the flow of blood.

Armed with the misericordia, her heart pumping in fear, she ran back towards the lord of Greystone twisting now in pain, his teeth chattering at the miserable loss of blood. Carter spotted her approaching, threw his arm towards her. Blair saw his hand shaking out of control.

"Kill me," Carter pleaded. "For the love of God, have mercy."

She walked towards him, around her the melee raged. She could not think how it was that it seemed her path was cleared towards the slowly dying lord. It was as if heaven itself had laid down her way.

Perhaps, showing him mercy by was of death was her salvation. Her hand closed over the hilt of the narrow blade.

Carter's eyes closed, and she watched his lips move furiously in prayer. Even evil men repented, she thought, as she knelt before her husband.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death," she whispered, then raised the blade to the slit of the armor right at his throat.

Carter's eyes opened wide. Blair watched the blood trickle from the corner of his lip. She looked down at the blade in her hand, the blade that had not moved for the kill.

She looked up and saw Lord Nathaniel standing over Carter's body, his sword embedded now deep into Carter's gut. His eyes were haunted, and she burst into tears of her gratitude. He did not want to spill blood, nor go to war. Over it all, Nathaniel had fought to show Chuck Bass his regret for her loss. And now he killed a man in cold blood so she would not.

Blair stood up and flung herself forward, to enfold him in her embrace. Whether or not it ended today, this man would be forever her brother.

Nathaniel buried his face in the crook of her neck, and despite the chaos surrounding them she felt him shed hot tears against her skin.

"Help me," she gasped. Blair pulled him with her towards the back of the tent. "We must hurry. They cannot find him." Her knees almost buckled at the sight of her lord lying unconscious. "I cannot rouse him," she said. "We must take him back behind the Norfolk line."

"Bass!" Nathaniel yelled. "Bass, awake yourself." He glanced at Blair's fearful eyes. "The princess is captured."

Chuck's head turned to the side, and he grunted in his effort. "Blair," he muttered.

Blair gasped in pleased surprise. He was not all gone. "Chuck, Chuck, open your eyes." She slapped sharply at his cheek several times. "Open your eyes, your grace."

"Ask him for help," Nathaniel commanded quietly. "We will escape quicker if he is awake."

Blair nodded. It would be far easier to maneuver if the duke was not senseless. Even if they had to carry him, he would help and would not be deadweight. She licked her lips. "Chuck, help me. They will take me away! Please help me."

He came awake for her, blinked his eyes open. His eyes were lucid, if pained, when he started. "Blair."

Her tears rained on her face when she looked into his eyes. "You're alive."

He reached up and brushed his thumb on the tear tracks on her right cheek. "So are you." She turned her head and nuzzled her nose on his palm. His eyes fell to Blair's legs, cut and dusty as she knelt on the ground. "Blair, what has happened?"

She nodded towards his thigh. "It is crude attention," she said in apology. "I am no Gypsy healer."

He saw the mock aid she had provided, and noted the blood that had seeped through the cloth. More would have been lost without her attention. "You have saved my life once more."

He remembered the poison. She saw it in his warm eyes. "I would save it again, and again," she vowed, "no matter the cost."

The duke drew her to him for a hungry kiss, almost as if her lips could bring him back his strength.

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "We must hurry!" Chuck turned to Nathaniel and nodded his head. "We are in the thick of the Tudors. Bass," Nathaniel added as the duke slowly pulled himself up, "we must not be spotted or they will take the princess."

"I know what they will do," Chuck hissed. "You need not tell me." He clutched at Blair's arm as she pulled him up. Blair stumbled under him. Nathaniel caught the duke's arm and leaned so Chuck could support himself on Nathaniel shoulders.

Blair gnawed her lower lip as blood blossomed on the cloth around his thigh. "He is not well enough to move," she realized.

"No. We shall leave." Chuck turned to the princess. "I will not lose you again."

Blair nodded. "Which path, my lord?" she said.

He had her full faith; she had entrusted her future to him. Whether she lived or died, whether she stayed free from her birth or confined by it. Chuck narrowed his eyes and scanned their position. They were in the deep edge of the Tudor camp. If they remained at the sidelines and proceeded south, they would remain relatively away from the Tudors.

He pushed away from Nathaniel and wobbled on his feet. "Archibald," he told the man who was now his brother from his marriage, "take Blair and go south. Stay under the cover of the tents. When you reach the clearing, run." He took Blair firmly by her chin. "Run like the hounds of hell are after you."

She shook her head furiously. "I will not leave you."

"I need to see Baizen's corpse. I need to see him dead."

"He's dead!" she burst out. "By Nathaniel's sword, he is dead, my lord."

Chuck turned to Nathaniel, and the man confirmed her statement with the shame in his eyes. Chuck grasped Nathaniel's nape, then pulled the man forward to lean his forehead against his. "You have more than repaid your debt," Chuck whispered, his eyes shining in his gratitude. His hand reached for Blair's. "Are you ready to run?" he asked, turning to her.

"Carter's dead."

Chuck smiled thinly. "Aye."

She shook her head. "The attack must be over," she said urgently. "Is it not true, my lord?"

Chuck frowned. If he fell in battle, his body found, Sir Daniel would be the first to call a retreat or surrender. "Where did you leave him?" he asked Nathaniel.

"The very center of the fray. His men would have seen him long ago."

"Then there is another," Chuck decided.

Blair turned to see the burgeoning mass of soldiers at the ready, flooding the camp with Lancastrian red and the Tudor's colors of white and red. Her breath caught in her throat; her heart thundered in her ears louder than the gallop of the horses. "Harry," she breathed.

From far away, it was as if the whispered name rang clear and pure through the foul-stenched air. The young king's head turned. His gaze met hers through the haze of smoke. She saw his eyes turn and regard the presence of Chuck and Nathaniel on either side of her. Henry raised his hand to give the order. With the arrowmen lined beside him, it would be seconds before the two were pierced through and through.

Henry loved her. Whatever his faults, he loved her.

Blair slowly shook his head at her brother. She stepped to cover Chuck's body with hers, keeping her gaze on the king. Reluctantly, because there would be no clear shot, Henry lowered his hand.

She turned around and placed her hand on Chuck's doublet, pulled his mantle so he would lean down. She whispered in his ear. "Run."

He nodded. "We run."

"Run as if the hounds of hell are on your heels," she said, returning his command. She pushed at his shoulders so he would stumble against Nathaniel, then cried out, "Now!"

Blair turned her back on the two lords and ran away from them, in the opposite direction, deep into the Tudor camp. Nathaniel grasped Chuck's arm and did as he was told, pulling the duke with him hissing and fighting.

"Blair!" Chuck screamed, calling the attention of the Tudor soldiers.

They stumbled through the tents, towards the Norfolk line. "She will not be hurt!" Nathaniel insisted. "Run as she said." Blood dripped from the cloth bandaging the duke's wound.

Chuck looked back and saw her, kneeling on her bare legs in front of Henry's horse. "She is mad!" he yelled, his eyes frantic. "She is mad!"

"We were poised for death," Nathaniel spat back at Chuck. "You are alive because she stood before you. You are alive while she pleads for your life."

"_I would save it again, and again," she vowed, "no matter the cost."_

Nathaniel deposited the duke in a heap behind the Norfolk lines. Immediately his knights created a line of protection between the duke and the Tudor camp. Chuck heard the clash of metal against metal, the clang of sword against shield, the grunts of pain and the scream of triumph. On his hands and knees, he breathed harshly.

A pair of feminine shoes stopped by his head. Chuck grasped at the skirts and looked up. "Heal me. Heal me now so I may charge," he pleaded with the Gypsy.

Vanessa lowered her eyes, then settled on her knees before the duke. "Let me see." She lowered her lashes.

Chuck turned and extended his leg. Vanessa's fingers teased the cloth that stemmed the blood. "She saved your life," she said as she removed the strip of Blair's gown. Freed, the wound pumped blood of the aching gash. "You were cut deep."

"Deep enough that he was near dead. We had feared Sir Daniel would think him fallen and retreat," Nathaniel offered.

The Gypsy's lips curved into a sad smile. "Daniel would never retreat."

Since Blair, it was so easy to him to see pain. Chuck caught the Gypsy's wrist as she cleaned his wound. "Where is he, Gypsy?"

Vanessa pulled her wrist free, then attended to the wound. She washed the wound with water from a canteen she took from her waist. And then she spread padded the wound with crumpled leaves, wrapped a strip of clean cloth to hold the poultice in place.

"I would caution you to stay off this leg, but I know you will not," Vanessa said. Chuck nodded, and she helped him to his feet. "My lord, Sir Daniel did not retreat."

Chuck nodded, then turned to Nathaniel. He saw his sister flying from the gates of Norfolk to meet her husband. He averted his eyes.

"Please bring him home," Vanessa said quietly. "That is why we love you, my lord. Because we know you will bring them all home."

Meanwhile, Henry jumped off his horse then looked down at his sister. "Am I still your king, Blair?" Henry asked.

Blair looked up to meet her brother's eyes. "You will always be my king," she answered.

"Then you know what you have done is treason," was Henry's edict. "You have shamed me."

"It was never my intent," she whispered.

"What do you think would happen after you turned your back on the man I have chosen for you, and returned to the man who calls me usurper and destroys my holdings at every turn?"

"I love him!" she cried. The harsh ground cut into her knees, but without Henry telling her to rise, she could not. "I did it because I love him. You have known that to be true since you saw my heart on his mantle."

Henry drew a breath, then sat on his haunches to be on level with his sister. "You were not raised to be selfish, Blair. From the pedestal on which we have placed you, there is no place for love." Henry chucked her chin, the way he used to do when she was younger. "Everything I do, I do for England."

A sob caught in her throat at the contact. "What you do for England destroys me," she cried. "Harry, you gave me Baizen." She bared her arms where remnants of her bruises remained, faint but visible. "And this is all you can see. This is all I can bear to tell you."

The king's face shuttered. "I will make him pay."

"We already have!" Blair protested. "Chuck, Nathaniel and I. He's dead. And if you punish either of them for Baizen's death, you must punish me too. He hurt me more than anyone has in my life, and you handed me to him on a silver platter."

There was a twitch in his jaw that she recognized only from the day they buried their father. Sometimes Blair pitied him, for all the things he could not show or say, but stormed in his heart all the same. "I had no choice," Henry rasped. "I could not give you Archibald. With such clear line of ascension as his for a father, and your own connection to me, your child would have been pawn to usurpers and kingmakers like the earls of Warwick."

Blair's hand flew to her belly, which even now she prayed sheltered a son. "You would think such a thing of my child, Harry?"

The king stood, then pulled his sister up. Her legs ached with the cuts from the ground. "Families have been torn apart for the love of England, Blair."

Blair thrust her chin up. Very clearly, she told her brother, not asked, "I will wed Chuck Bass. I will not grieve for a year. I do not grieve for Baizen."

"I'm afraid it cannot be, Blair," Henry told her gently. "He is England's fiercest enemy. This kingdom cannot see me weak, or it will fall."

"You owe me this, Harry," she said firmly. "Let this be the last thing you do for me, and we will never intrude on your kingdom again."

"Tell me," the king obliged.

tbc


	18. Chapter 18

AN: No one noticed Vanessa's request from Chuck from the last part. Given that, I continued the vein from which she spoke. Hope it doesn't shatter you guys.

Part 18

The Tudor soldiers, exhausted from the battle, drained at the horror surrounding them, still stepped out of the way as Blair rode past them. Blair knew it was because the king himself followed closely after her in his own stallion, flanked by his two most trusted guards.

They rode past the Tudor line and approached Norfolk's. At the sight of pure Yorkist white, the men beside the king grasped the hilts of the swords. Blair shot a look of displeasure towards Henry, who opened his hand in a gesture to stay.

As they drew near, she saw the stealthy way that the soldiers passed the information from one to the other. They gathered their dead, yet even through the somber action they relayed the message. By the time they were close to the line, Blair saw Chuck running towards them, favorite his injured leg, but hurrying just the same.

She slid from her horse, unmindful of her brother who sat astride his horse behind her. Blair picked up what was left of her gown and ran towards him.

"Chuck!" she cried, dust flying up from where her feet hit the ground. When she reached him she threw her arms around him. He caught her up under her arms and picked it up, whirled around once before bringing her back down to earth. Blair laughed happily, weak at the knees at the sheer joy of accomplishment. "You made it," she gushed. "What of Nathaniel?" she asked about the companion that Chuck had upon her flight from them.

"Nathaniel is well," he answered gruffly. "We are gathering our dead."

His eyes strayed to the body placed gingerly in the wagon, covered by a familiar mantle. Blair rushed over to the corpse, then hesitantly pulled the cover off his face. When she saw who it was, she placed a kiss on his cheek, and closed the sightless eyes.

"Vanessa pleaded to take him home first," Chuck told her. "And since she had saved our lives, I would grant her this wish."

"He was a loyal knight to you," she admitted. "He will be missed."

"Blair, you must not ever risk yourself again," he cautioned her. Chuck drew her into his arms and kissed her forehead. His eyes fluttered to the knight, who had done first and foremost his duty to Norfolk. "I would die to see you hurt."

"Is it more of a risk, Bass, to have the princess run into Tudor than to have her stay here?"

The lovers pulled apart and regarded the king, who looked down at them from his perch. "I know her happiness lies here with us," Chuck answered.

"From what I've learned, it is with you," Henry replied pointedly. Chuck turned to Blair in surprise. "She is ever the diplomat, just as I heard you were in the years of Richard."

"I was, and served my kingdom faithfully only to come home with the stench of death dealt by your forces."

"It is a matter of war. War does not choose the fallen. Yet it makes heroes of us all."

Chuck gestured to take the wagon into the walls of Norfolk. Vanessa wished to see her fallen hero, he would rather Daniel be washed and bathed, prepared for his funeral by his Gypsy love than baking under the sun in front of the king he fought against.

"You have overwhelmed us," Chuck said, nodding towards the neverending sea of Tudor troops surrounding Norfolk. "Have you come for my head?"

Blair's arm tightened around Chuck's. "No," she said softly. "Henry and I have come to an agreement."

She turned to Henry, who nodded. The king allowed, "Tell him, Blair."

Blair turned to look up at Chuck. "Norfolk is now defeated. Even if we fight there is no way to win this war. I will not have you dead."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "I will not be a prisoner of Henry Tudor," he stated firmly. "I would rather die."

"I will not have you dead!" Blair argued sharply. "Listen. To save your people, you will be stripped of your lands and titles. In the absence of a son from your loins, Henry is free to give Norfolk to any of his subjects."

Chuck's hands fisted in rebellion at his judgment. "You agreed to this?" he said in disbelief.

"Chuck, listen," she pleaded, her eyes shining. "I would have rather spent my lifetime in these lands with you, but there is no other way."

"My people for my freedom," Chuck said to Henry.

"It is not freedom," the king stated gravely.

"England cannot see a man who has done such harm to the throne be allowed free, without repercussions," Blair said softly. She forced him to look at her. "Chuck Bass, you are going to be exiled in Florence. You will be required to serve as envoy there, in much the same manner as you did for Richard. Since you are known to Lorenzo di Medici in such capacity, I expect there is nothing that will keep you from your duties. You will be in service until you prove yourself worthy of my pardon," Henry added. "You will receive nothing but the annual pension of an envoy."

He was intelligent enough to recognize the political manipulation that was needed to draft a punishment that was not truly punishment. Even if Henry never pardoned him, he would live the fine life of a diplomat to one of England's ally states. This was what she had brought to Henry's negotiation table.

"And what of you?" he asked her softly. His greatest fear had been realized. He stood to face a lifetime apart from her. If he were never to return to England, he may never touch her again.

He would rather a quick execution now.

She shook her head. "My fate is in his hands. What we have for you is more than enough favor to ask my king."

The king got off his horse and approached his sister.

"The princess has committed a crime against me," Henry said.

At the words, Chuck ached to push her back behind him to cushion the blow of whatever the king would mete out.

"She will be stripped of her title, stricken from the records, her existence will never be spoken in my court," was the king's edict. "For her crimes, she will be exiled from this land. Her English holdings will be placed in my coffers to do with as I will. The only properties she will keep are those that I deem to give her of my own will."

"She does not need any of your charity, king," Chuck told him, the title a scathing name.

"Never tell me how to deal with my sister," Henry snapped. To Blair, he said, his voice softening, "You will have your mother's villa in Tuscany, and a meager allowance reserved for an illegitimate child."

Of royalty, it would be more than enough to survive.

"This is more than generous, Blair, when an execution could have been as likely," the king told her.

Tears filled her eyes when her brother mentioned the Tuscan home. She had never seen it, and more than likely it was nothing grand or majestic like Richmond, or Harcourt, or even Norfolk. Yet Henry had chosen it for her, to be kind to her, to show her that even in this, he could love her just a little, a small portion of the love he had for England.

Chuck Bass was exiled to Florence, and she had traded the kingdom's courts for a little house atop a Tuscan hill.

Blair fell to her knees, took his hand in both of hers and showered his glove with kisses and tears. "Harry, I love you!"

The king pulled his hand away and helped her rise. He glanced at Chuck Bass, who watched Blair with his jaw set tight. He had no doubt the man abhorred the sight of the princess in such a humble pose. Henry pulled his sister for an embrace that would last them years, perhaps even a lifetime. She had made her choice well and clear. "I wish you a happy life, sister," he said quietly into her ear. "Italy is far enough away that you can live yourself outside of me."

Blair accepted the kisses that Henry placed on both of her cheeks.

The king then turned to Chuck. "Italy is close enough that I can take her at any moment you see fit to raise your hand on her like that foul Yorkist did," Henry spat, his threat clear as he recalled the bruises that Carter Baizen left behind. "I will know, Bass."

"You will never need to come for her," Chuck swore.

"Serve me well, and you may be pardoned soon enough," The king replied, obviously satisfied with his response. "Then you can return to England."

"Apart from knowing how Norfolk will fare, there is little reason for me to come back." Blair would be with him in a new country, with sprawling hills and miles of vineyards, right at the height of what would be, he suspected, the most spectacular rise of culture and arts. He could live in Italy forever for the simple thought of spending nights under the Tuscan stars, wrapped around her as they lay naked on the grassy lands. One thing he needed to settle, and happily he could live out his life in paradise. "Tell me, what will happen to my people?"

"There is a lord I must reward," Henry told him. "He had found my sister when I asked, and I owe him land and a good noble title."

"Nathaniel," Blair realized.

Nathaniel and Serena would be the duke and duchess of Norfolk. His people, his castle, his lands would remain in the hands of his bloodline, even if somewhere down the line, the Bass name was forgotten, it would still be Bartholomew Bass' sons and grandsons who would care for the land.

Blair looked up at Chuck, saw him nod his head in satisfaction. He pulled her to him and placed a kiss on her temple. "This will do," he told her.

Two full moons had passed before the king of England, with the new duke and duchess of Norfolk, made their way to the Continent. Sir Eric had arrived much earlier, having found Jenny Humphrey and taking her to serve her mistress in Italy, much to her delight. The delight had been so much that the maid burst into a grateful cry and gave the knight a kiss.

The wedding in the Basilica di Santa Croce was a large affair, attended even by many of the Medici patrons and artists. Carlos—Chuck—was special to the city's political life, and thus hoards of guests saw fit to wish him a happy life when he married. In this city, she was near nameless, and the women looked at her in envy and surprise as she walked down the aisle with the English envoy they had all come to know over the years.

It was then with great surprise when the king of England arrived to grace his envoy's wedding, and then held the bride's arm as he led her down the aisle.

Serena gasped at the white confection of pure lace, floor-length, that covered her as she was brought to her brother.

"My mistress looks beautiful," Jenny said, proud of the work she had down to tailor the astounding veil. "White becomes her."

Eric thought back to the day they captured Blair in her black veil and laid her before their brother for his delectation. And now here she was, frothed in while, presented again to Chuck.

"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?" the priest intoned from

Henry took her hand in his, kissed her knuckles, then gave that hand to the priest. "I will." The king retired to the pews and took his place beside Lorenzo.

They had said the vows before, once upon a time, when death was imminent and life was too precious to lose.

Chuck's voice was low when he said the words, and he could not keep the smile from his face at now saying them out loud, to her, in front of the ancient cross. "I, Charles Bartholomew Bass, take thee Blair to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse—"

Her hand on his tightened, "—for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to be bonny and buxom at bed and at board." There was short pause, and he could see her red lips curve at the words. "To love and to cherish, til death us depart, according to God's holy ordinance. I pledge thee my troth."

Chuck and Blair placed the rings they had been holding on top of the Book that the clerk held.

"Bless these Rings, or Lord, that those who wear them, that give and receive them, may ever be faithful to one another, remain in your peace, and live and grow old together in your love—"

He heard her sniffle, and he itched to part the thick veil that hid her from him.

"And seeing their children's children. Amen," the priest finished. He picked the smaller ring and handed it to Chuck.

Chuck held Blair's left hand in his. "With this ring I thee wed." He touched the ring to her thumb. "With my body I thee honor." The ring touched her index finger. "With all my worldly goods I thee endow." He slid the ring onto her ring finger. His voice dropped. "In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

The priest handed the other ring to Blair, who did the same for her groom. Once the ring was in place on his hand, she kissed the gold against his skin. Chuck slid his arm around her waist as they knelt together.

"Let us pray."

She kept her head down as the priest prayed, and even did the same as everyone intoned "Our Father." Chuck heard the tears more than he saw them. It was in the way her breathing hitched, the sound of her sigh.

"We will never sin again," she breathed in relief.

"Each time I lay with you, I never sinned. Each time you broke in my arms, lay entwined with me," he whispered, "you never sinned."

The priest joined their right hands together and asked them to rise. Chuck supported his bride with a hand on her waist.

"Those whom God has put together let no man put asunder."

No man, no king, no war. Nothing.

"For as much as Charles and Blair have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company," the priest declared, "I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost."

Chuck held his breath when he finally gathered the veil in his hands, then parted them to look into her eyes. Blair smiled up at him tearfully. He cupped her face, and she did the same with his. Laughing softly at the image they presented thus, they kissed each other in front of their guests. To the Florentines it was the English envoy and her nameless English bride they watched. To the English it was the princess and the traitor.

"Chuck and Blair," Chuck whispered when their lips parted.

She shook her head. "Blair and Chuck."

They raced from the altar to the waiting horse outside, leaving their guests to follow them to the small hilltop villa for celebration. Chuck jumped astride the horse and pulled his bride up onto the horse to sit between his thighs. She rode like this with him whenever he took her back to Norfolk, and now they rode together in one steed as they returned to their humbler home.

They passed the lane of cypress trees on the path. A week later they would find themselves lying naked under those trees, with him deep inside her as she looked up at the blanket of stars above them.

Chuck rode the horse towards the white gates that led to the vegetable gardens. A month later she would stand there with a small basket of ripe tomatoes on her arm, and take his hand to press against her slightly rounding belly. Their lovely tomatoes would spill to the grass and roll into every possible hiding place in the garden, but they would crush the ones they found when he lays her on the dewy soil and caresses her into hoarse and utter submission.

Blair held his hand as they made their way up the wooden steps leading to the corridor towards the bedroom. Years later the old steps would need to be replaced due to the abuse of three pairs of pattering little feet chasing one another every day.

They stood before the large windows that presented the hills and plains of Tuscany in such a marvelous frame. Blair opened her hand, palm up, and he entwined his fingers with hers. The cold metal of their rings clicked together.

"It is worth the trade, my lord?"

"I should ask you that. You are neither a princess nor a duchess now. Here no one knows you are a Tudor rose."

She turned her head and accepted the kiss her husband gave, her lips parting with no hesitation. "I am not a rose anymore. From the very first moment we fought, you turned me into a wildflower. And I can blossom where you are. Even if it is in a little house in Tuscany."

"And I would trade a hundred more of Norfolk even for just another tomorrow with you." He closed his eyes and rested his chin on her shoulder.

fin

Ahhhhh… I feel like I'm waking up from a dream now. Thank you for being with me through this journey. And I hope you learned a thing or two hehe. I did.


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